


Fate/Apocrypha: Reconnected

by AzureRegulus



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fantasy, Mythology References
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:54:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 99,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26267569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureRegulus/pseuds/AzureRegulus
Summary: Mission and path set by a goddess with hair of white and eyes of azure, Crio left behind his home in Fuyuki to carry on his duty as the blade of the gods.Carrying the promise of the ringbearer to Medea's wedding to her master Souichirou close to his chest, Crio vowed to end whatever waited for him swiftly.But the holy grail war in Fuyuki was nothing to what his first steps in Romania brought him into. A war exceeding the scale of what knowledge he possessed.Not only would past and present meet, but Fates reconnected.Promises to the world and love that was destroyed before it could sprout.In this war, the will of many will be put to test. His own as well as the one of his own Servant...the swift huntress of Arcadia.
Relationships: Achilles | Rider of Red & Penthesilea | Berserker, Atalanta | Archer of Red / Original Character
Kudos: 13





	1. The curse of life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The smell of the sea was not something he could forget. 
> 
> Neither the sand scraping upon his knees, nor the bone chilling screams of the woman that tried to save him. 
> 
> Alone he would wander the darkness, every step wet from the blood under his feet. The blackess around would grow ever scarlet as hands reached to drag him down.
> 
> That is the fate...of someone being the tool of a god...

How would you react?

You have seen your family being slaughtered.

You felt the arms of your parents around you as they protect you with their bodies, slowly growing colder and colder as you hear their bodies being stabbed by swords over and over.

And when the sounds of battles stop, the last sword clutters on the ground, the final drops of blood are shed and you crawl out of the protective embrace of your parents, a smile on their pale faces...

…would you also scream when you witness the aftermath of the carnage or would you just cry in joy of still clinging to your life?

Alone I had wandered my island, what was now a tomb for the dead. It was a depiction crueler than even Hades could display in the underworld.

The former greek warriors that wandered the lands of the gods, fighting for the children abused and tormented by war and loss, that had no home, no loved ones, scattered everyhwere like puppets filled with blood, broken and unable to be recognized.

It was a lifelong mission. When old heroes fought for glory and Elysium, these warriors put their lives on the line to offer children a happy life on this island secluded from the outside world by a dense fog. A place to be loved, to have arms wrapped around you as you cried your heart out for what you lost.

And that right here, this abominable sight...

...was their reward.

Being slaughtered like cattle.

Men, women, children, elderly.

Beheaded, their guts dragged out for ravens to feast upon. One was always watching me somehow. Maybe it was searching for its next meal.

Somehow the fog’s protection did not nothing to save us from the attack.

To this day I do not know who instilled the attack on Polediatirisi.

I only remember one thing from my island.

I had nothing left anymore.

As I wandered with my bare feet over the blood covered concrete, my stomach twisting from the wet feeling underneath my soles, I searched for what was once my home, found destroyed and devoid of life. The only thing that was left intact from the crazed slaughter, was a small boat.

My only hope.

There was nothing to take for food.

There was nothing left to drink.

The apples were tainted with blood. My favorite fruit, rotten.

I walked and walked, until my feet hurt, coming only upon a destroyed library. I have nothing left here on this small island, but my own life.

But…maybe I can take ‘that’ with me…

Amidst the rubble, I searched what felt to me like an eternity.

And I found what little remained of it.

A scroll nearly burned to ashes aside from one name.

Atalanta…

The beautiful huntress of Arcadia, too fast for males to catch.

I was too shy to admit that I looked up to her, to this huntress that lived so long ago.

The children of this island, now mere corpses, always had a hero they looked up to.

Strong as Heracles.

Courageous as Achilles.

Smart as Odysseus.

Wise as Asclepius.

Many, many heroes they wished to be. But I was different.

For some reason, I always liked Atalanta. She seemed unapproachable, yet something drew me to read this story over and over. I didn’t find joy in reading the different endings of her tale, none ever ending with her happiness.

It hurt.

My small heart hurt every time when I read at night how she ran across the fields, killed the centaurs, drew first blood against the Caledonian boar, only to find such unfortunate ends.

When my father asked me once who I looked up to, he chuckled.

_“Agori mou, if you chase your dreams of becoming a scholar, live your life as you desire it, maybe you will one day find her on the fields of Elysium. And when you are kind, respectful and offer her an apple, maybe she’ll let you race her and slow down for you!”._

_“Pater!”._

_“Hahaha! Ah, so it is love as well! My little boy has a crush!”._

He laughed at how I blushed.

I didn’t even understand the swirling feelings in my chest that time or the butterflies in my stomach. After all, I was but a boy. But now, he only had a loving smile on his pale face, laying over my mother as he protected me and her.

Both were gone…

A gust of wind tore the last remnants of the book into the wind. Now, not even that story remained as it was carried out into the sea. Now, even she left me to fend for myself.

I was all alone…

Untying the boat, my voyage over the raging sea began. I did not care if I became food for Poseidon’s children and their saw-like teeth, the god Caenis hated from the bottom of her heart. If I ended up as shark food, at least I could be with mother and father again.

I wasn’t eaten, but the endless days on sea killed me.

First my soul, then my body as I starved, only able to drink the sea water.

When I thought I was dead, stranded upon a beach I felt a hand brush over my head. There was a soft whisper…

…a drop falling on my temple before the hand disappeared.

My eyes couldn’t open when I heard footsteps approach. Neither could my body move.

But I was alive…

_“That is the child he gave his heart to?”._

_“It is nothing but a child of Polediatirisi. But what is that boy doing here on Arcadia’s beach?”._

Voices. A man and a woman. Their tones sounded like I disgusted them. I was not even worth pitying. I just wanted to die and get it over with.

_“It doesn’t matter. If ‘he’ gave his heart to the boy, that means he is our new ‘weapon’”._

_“Him? You want to make that child a half god? Chaos? You cannot make a child into an Assassin for the gods, fool.”._

_“Hmpf. You misunderstand one thing. It is because he is a child that he can be the perfect weapon. At this age, it is perfect. Close of his heart and turn him into a blade of divine judgement. Our Servant. Rogue gods, mortals. We give the command and he’ll kill without a second thought. He is the perfect candidate.”._

_“Leave him alone!”._

I still remember to this day how the voice of a woman tore through the two males’ annoyed banter. Pressed against a chest in warm arms, a warmth I forgot already, I heard the faint beating of a heart.

_“Your last mission killed ‘him’ already and he chose to give the last spark of his life to this child! I won’t allow you to turn him into a weapon!”._

She was protecting me.

_“Artemis, you have no say in this. Neither you Greek or Egyptian gods have a say in the matter. Hand over the child!”._

_“No!!! I won’t! First Atalanta was taken from me thanks to that whore Aphrodite, rotting in a cave, and now you want to curse this child as well?! I will not allow that! He…He just lost everything. He lost his family, his friends, his home…and he died to cross the sea and try to live. Just leave him be. Let me take care of him.”._

_“I warn you a last time, Artemis! Hand over the child!”._

...Artemis? Is that truly the goddess of the hunt?

_“I will not let you have him! Atalanta! Penthesilea! All of them have been turned into Servants! My children…my little girls…I will not let you have this child. Not on my life!”._

_“Listen, Artemis. I understand. I really do. It is unfortunate what happened to Atalanta, that she…”._

I can never remember that part. What was told to the goddess about what happened to the huntress?

Was Atalanta really forced to marry Hippomenes? Or was she really pregnant when she raced and abandoned her own child in the woods like she herself had been?

I cannot make it out. Their voices fade every time.

_“No matter what you say, it will not change my mind! I will protect that boy! His home has been destroyed and the last peace he had was a book speaking about my girl! He doesn’t even have that anymore. I will not allow it! I will raise him myself this time. I will take him with me to Olympos and care of him like a mother...”._

_“Artemis, that is not your child. Stop behaving as if he came from you.”._

_“He doesn’t need to have my blood! I won’t allow you to turn him into a weapon! I-“._

_“Enough!”._

I can barely hear the slap she received. My arm is being pulled up, dragged along with whoever had a hold of me.

My skin is scraping against the sand.

My consciousness is fading…

_“No! Crio! Let him go! Let that child go!”._

_“Be quiet, Artemis! This is for the greater good. The gods need their blade. If we are not allowed to dispose of another or intervene in human affairs anymore, then we need someone to cast our judgement.”._

_“No! Not my child! Don’t turn him into a weapon, I beg of you! He is just a boy! PLEASE!!!”._

Why did that woman scream for me? I was just an orphan.

I could never understand.

Millenia passed away.

My body grew. My heart steeled.

The first murder I committed to the pirmordial gods brought me to the verge of vomiting as the memories of my broken home returned. But not a day later, I had to kill again.

I had no arms that held me when I cried and asked why I had to do this. There was no one to comfort me.

I killed.

And killed.

I took lives so often that I grew numb to it. I should care. I feel I should at least care, but I can't anymore.

Countless bodies already by the age of 18.

The countereffect of the dead god’s blessing of life stopped my growth when I reached my thirtieth birthday.

My snow-white hair grew longer to the length of my shoulder, swept back, yet wild. Some had begun to call me the white maned lion.

Large shoulders on a strong body forged from countless battles, scars on every inch of skin.

Inside the halls I would brush by many gods of all lands and worlds.

_“The abomination has returned…”._

_“Hmpf. Looks like he was sent to kill another. We had many gods of chaos, but this one is by far the most dangerous we ever had.”._

_“Yes. His predecessor was too soft. That we said often. That is how he got himself killed as well. Still, when they brought that child in, I never expected him to become a machine.”._

God of Chaos.

Nothing more than a title to the assassin the gods choose to do their dirty work for. While our bodies are far stronger than a mortal’s, we are just as susceptible to death as before.

A knife to my heart.

A bullet to my head.

I would be dead in an instant.

We get taught what the heart of the world truly is and how easily darkness gives birth to monsters. That is what I heard every day for as long as my cursed life went on. Gods of different lands giving me looks of pure hatred.

Anubis.

Hades.

Izanagi.

Many names. Many lands. Yet the same look, no matter if it was a god of death, or one of life. All would gaze at me if I was the devil’s spawn.

Aside from a single one…one I never spoke to.

Every time I walked by, she lifted her hand to me, but never spoke a word.

The grown body of a woman, a beautiful hour glass form clad in a white dress. The edges were in the color of brilliant red flames. Sometimes she was accompanied by what resembled a small bear on her shoulder, at other times, a mountain of a man, a giant, at her side. From the first look, he seemed like a natural playboy, but he always gazed down at the woman with a face of guilt, as if he was unable to do something for her.

And every time I looked into the woman’s sky-blue eyes a mortal would lose itself in instantly, she turned her eyes away, a shadow from her beautiful white strands covering the sadness I was never able to grasp.

Softly, barely audible to untrained ears, she seemed to whimper.

But I never once asked her name. I was sent from mission to mission.

I was nothing more than that.

I was their abomination they created.

That they beat into my head at any given moment.

What once was my home, I remembered no more.

I forgot I was greek, born around the time of the war between Athens and Sparta. I cut my native tongue from my mouth, vowing to never speak a word of that language again.

And I forgot even ‘her’ name.

Having had enough of the loyal servitude to the gods, I once roamed through my belongings.

Held in my hand, a knife bestowed to me upon reaching adulthood, beautifully crafted. The steel was the purest white one can imagine, decorated with a sapphire in the middle that signified my allegiance to what people at times called the land of the gods.

And I rammed that sword into my throat.

I felt pain, blood seeping from my mouth as my view faded…

…and was cursed when I awoke with not even a scar left, healed once again.

I was unable to die.

I heard about a different universe were a half god went on a rampage from the grief of having killed his family at the hands of the god of war, Ares. In the end, after having destroyed Zeus, who was known in my land as the king of the gods and even his father, now nothing more than a pawn by something higher, he was able to kill himself and meet his family.

I served faithfully for millennia.

Why was I not allowed that?!

I just wanted to be with my parents again!! With my people!!

But I was damned to walk into worlds over and over to kill for them as their assassin, sinking my hands into the soft flesh to tear out the hearts.

That was all I would ever be.

Their sword of ‘judgement’.

Their abomination.

Ah…

It is getting dark.

I can see her again.

That woman in white.

But she is holding someone’s hand this time.

It is not that man, but someone different.

A woman clad in a dress of the freshest green, beautiful beyond compare.

Her hair was long, resembling the mane of a lion, a pale gold, yet with emerald on her bangs casting a shadow over her eyes.

The woman in white is smiling at me while the other stood silent.

Who…are they?

Why am I remembering them right now?

She is reaching her hand out to me, gesturing to the unknown woman at her side, smiling at me.

I take a step forth to meet them. I want to finally ask who that white-haired woman is, kicking something by mistake. I turn my gaze down at the sound of a metal rolling.

A golden cup is right in front of my feet, filled with what looked like blood, spilled on the ground.

And when I look forward again…

…they are gone, leaving me alone in the dark.

Picking up the cup, I sigh in my loneliness. To this day I never found out who she or who that other woman was.

Inside that darkness, I sense my surroundings grow warmer.

A gentle light is growing brighter and brighter behind me.

“EXCALIBUR!”.

I would recognize that shout no matter where. The shout of a proud king, whose blue dress waved in the wind as she unleashed all the might of a falling star.

A blade of light cuts through the darkness, smiting with the force of the heavens themselves, and I see myself standing on a flat rooftop of a skyscraper once more.

There she is, fighting with all her strength against the Pegasus cutting through the sky, carrying the gorgeous gorgon on her back, with the spite of a falling star in the purest white to strike the king down.

The two Servants I gazed upon the very first day I had been sent to Fuyuki.

The king of Camelot, Artoria Pendragon, wielding the sword of victory…

…clashing with the feared beast of my home, the gorgon Medusa in the form of a beautiful woman, riding on the Pegasus.

With a smile, my eyelids grow heavy…

…

My head is hurting.

Shifting myself into a proper sitting position, the long row of cracks going down my are a bad sign about my posture. Taking a look at my phone, I see the time. I have been travelling for 3 hours now. 

Leaning my chin against my fist, I gaze at the clear night sky as we travel over the ocean. I feel to tired. Might as well go back to sleep until I land in Romania.

...

What was I even dreaming about? I feel it is something I experienced before, but I can never grasp it.


	2. Arrival

A beautiful array of orange and blue was on the horizon.

With a small grumble, Crio shifted inside the comfortable seat of the flight. Slowly his eyes opened to the first crack of dawn.

But he was anything but happy to see this.

He’d rather be in Fuyuki and wake up on a futon to the scent of fresh tea or the seclusion of the Ryudoji temple.

_“Tse. Hihi. You have gotten lazy, Crio. Ela pano.”._

That was the ever-playful voice of Medea playing inside his mind like a record, telling him to get up. Over and over she woke him up like this when he worked too long on one of his various tasks. While he was a guest, he’d only agreed to live with Medea and her husband under the obligation that he’d help the with chores at least.

The last he wanted to be is a free loader, even if he did not have money issues.

With the hand of the gods behind him, money really was no problem. He could afford himself an apartment in the middle of the city with ease, but due to travelling too much, there was no need for a permanent place to live.

Nothing to call home.

Until Medea asked Souichirou out of worry.

His hand wandered beneath his black coat, pulling out the royal blue box Souichirou gave him. At this point, it was Crio biggest treasure.

_“She wants you to be the ring bearer on our wedding. This is Caster’s biggest moment. I want this to be a day she will remember fondly of. So no matter what happens, Crio…Do not die. Return to us alive and well. That is why…Take that with you…as your promise to Medea…and a good luck charm…”._

He had seen the ring once that night Souichirou pleaded him to return alive. Not for himself. The man barely was grasping the concept of feelings again, learning how to love from Medea.

But for the Caster herself.

Solemnly gazing at the box, the promise clear in his mind, he pressed the box against his forehead. That inside there was Medea’s hope, her heart, her future. Something that could make her forget what Jason and Aphrodite did to her for all eternity.

Taking a deep breath, he thought of the Caster having send him of with a worried look.

“I will return to you all, I swear it. I want to see you be led to Souichirou…to be happy. You and so many others deserve happiness. I will never be able to see a woman at my side in such a dress. But if I can see at least you grasp happiness in a way, see you in such a pure white, I will do everything I can to return.”.

Landing and border control went nearly without a hitch.

Two problems that persisted were the ring and his necklace, but they did a secondary control after that.

Problem?

His overall appearance.

His black coat had seen better days already, giving him a battle hardened as well as frightening appearance in tandem with his sharp, ocean blue gaze, a permanent scowl and his wild, snow white hair, a lion’s mane nearly that was swept back as if he ran against the wind for too long.

They thought he was a criminal until he pulled out a business card that showed he was part of a hidden military unit, one that had formed from the combined countries, yet was nowhere officially registered.

And just as swiftly they let him proceed without another squeak from their lips.

‘Damnit. Do I have to flaunt this thing everywhere I go so I can travel in peace? Do I look like a Yakuza or something?’.

Cursing in his mind he suddenly felt the urge to take another good look at himself at the slight reflection in the glass that made up the airport building. His rough hands wandered over his chin, eyes squinting at his double. More and more he began to understand why people took turns around him and why Medusa as well as Medea urged him to not use that coat anymore. Rubbing the sand from his eyes, he walked out towards the next taxi available. ‘I should have asked Medea if the new coat she wanted to do for me was ready.’, he thought. But regret came too late. They were hours apart now.

Taking the conveniently arriving cab, he told: “To Sighisoara, please.”. “Gladly.”, a middle-aged man answered, taking a good look at the man.

At first, he pulled on his collar.

Then brushed a drop of sweat away from his dark eyebrows.

Crio could see everything from the rearview mirror. Barely a smile, he tried to ease the man: “I know, I look scary. Easy. I am not a criminal. Just a tourist.”.

“Oh, thank god. I-I mean-”.

“It’s okay. I get that a lot.”.

At the soft chuckle, the man sighed a bit as he turned on a radio. “Not to say too much, but I just had a strange passenger a few days ago. I think he was Asian, but I couldn’t see his eyes through those sunglasses. He looked incredibly intimidating and…had a weird smell.”. “A weird smell? Maybe a bad cologne.”, Crio thought a bit, stroking his chin.

“No, not a cologne. Eh, it doesn’t matter either way. It was just amusing, because he looked scary, but was also a nice guy, like you.”.

“Heh. That so?”.

“Anyway. What brings you to Sighisoara, sir? You said you were a tourist?”.

Swift as a bullet, Crio answered with a breezy smile. “I am interested in old legends and I heard Sighisoara was Vlad the Third’s birthplace.”.

“Ah. The legend of Dracula.”.

“I am actually more interested in the actual king than the supposed vampire.”.

“That is rare.”.

“I guess. People are very superficial when it comes to reading legends.”.

That he could relate to himself. How else would he have to swallow the shock of the King Arthur being a girl?

Arriving at Sighisoara, Crio took a good look around.

The air was fresh and clean.

The buildings showed that they had history in them, the streets still narrow from the time it was build.

It had its charm being close to history.

Rolling his shoulders, Crio pulled out his smartphone. ‘Alright. Time to find a hotel.’. As he gazed through the available locations, his eyes fixated on a name of a nearby town.

Trifas.

Frowning, having decided where to go, he began to walk. ‘Why did that goddess tell me to go to Trifas first, and then she tells me in my sleep to go to Sighisoara?’, he wondered.

After his first slumber where he awoke in the middle of the flight, the goddess interrupted his second slumber for a bit information.

One was for his first stop to be in Sighisoara.

Strolling down the narrow streets, his lips had curled into a smile. The city felt peaceful, colorful. The buildings had strong, warm colors.

But something broke the idyllic peace.

A small whimper stabbed into his ears. A deep scowl edged on his face, recognizing the sound he heard much too often.

Walking through the narrow alleyway, the whimpers became clearer and clearer

Soon the pitiful sounds turned into a painful gasp.

More and more it changed between the between whimpers and cries of pain.

His stomach began to twist, steps growing faster and faster.

Arriving at what seemed to be an empty lot, Crio saw something that made him ready to vomit out the food he was served on the plane.

Three men, kicking ruthlessly against a defenseless, little girl.

The largest of the three winded back once more, ramming the tip of his boot into the small chest of the girl. The force could have shattered her ribs, lifting her off the ground and roll on her back.

Out of her tattered jacket as the girl was barely able to cry, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, the large man nodded at the other to search her jacket.

“…Huh? Nothing…Just a few coins.”, the man muttered. Unsatisfied with the winnings, he spat down on the, short, dirty brown hair. Pain cursed through her entire body, her fingertips already numb. What were minutes, felt like hours of constant, pain bursting in every spot.

“Do not show yourself again in our spot, you little brat.”, the leader warned.

That tone, Crio knew, came from one who had no qualms to kill.

One who would leave a child to suffer and die if it served to fuel his own riches.

Going their way out the lot, grumbling to themselves that it was a waste of their time, they soon found the white haired greek in their way. The large man tilted his head. “Huh? What are you? A tourist?”. The rough question passed by Crio’s ears, his glare overshadowed by his head held low.

Taking a deep breath as the men grimaced…

…a primal instinct of fear caused them to nearly scream.

Sharp as a knife, Crio’s pupils could only be described as those of predator, a crocodile that was lunging out from the Nile amidst the ocean blue waters that were his iris.

“W-What the hell?!”, the smallest of the three struggled to squeeze out. Their hearts were racing, sweat gathering on their cold bodies as the knives dug into them.

With a scream of terror, one of the three began to run, only to fall on his back as he ran straight into Crio’s outstretched left arm.

One out, two more to go.

Taking a boxer stance, the leader punched the air a bit. “You think you are tough?”, he faked confidence, weaving and bobbing. His legs were shaking. He had observed Crio’s almost unnatural quick reflex, barely any muscles moved.

Slowly Crio took a step forward. The display of aggression to him was nothing but the adrenaline clouding the man’s mind. Fear can cause two reaction in a human.

Flee or fight.

Fleeing caused the one of them to run straight into Crio’s arm and knock himself out and this one was out to fight.

Taking a firm step forward, winding his arm back, the man threw a slugging uppercut.

Unrefined, street style fighting. An open book to someone who studied even only one fighting style.

A dark grin spread on Crio’s lips, already tasting the blood.

The sound of crunching bones was music in his ears.

The uppercut was countered by Crio’s elbow, shattering the bones.

The fighting spirit shattered with his bones, pushed out with a painful gasp. Wide brown eyes gazed up at the horrific reptilian looking ones of the greek in front of him, seemingly growing ever larger as he removed his elbow.

That was no man anymore in his eyes.

Only a monster.

“That was a nice sound. Does the rest of your body also produce such nice tunes?”, Crio chuckled.

Only a small shriek escaped him before Crio knocked the man’s teeth out with his left knee. Teeth cluttered on the ground, the man bleeding from his burst open lip, before passing out on the spot.

One remained.

Pressed against the wall, having witnessed the unknown man knock out the first one and brutally beat down the leader, he slid down the wall like a sack of potatos. His legs felt too heavy, shaking in tandem with cluttering teeth as Crio approached him.

“P-Please…M-Merc-“.

Nothing more came out before Crio gave a straight kick that broke the man’s nose and smashed the back of his head against red break walls.

Rubbing his sole of his black boot on the face, watching hands and fingers grow limp, he only gave one single warning, one they would hear even in the blackness of their consciousness.

“Next time I see you, if you are still alive that is…I will make sure you will beg for me to kill you. Pray that we do not meet again.”.

With a hook kick to the temple, the body slumped to the ground.

Immediately his attention went to the little girl. His heart raced, pounding in his ears.

Her lips were bloody, a cut, presumably from a punch. Her breaths small, hasty, struggled to even get the slightest bit of oxygen. Unbearable pain, fire in her veins, held her from opening her eyes.

Taking his coat off, he curled it around her frail body. “Hey! Can you hear me?”, he asked, carefully picking her up in his arms.

At that moment, feeling the safety of his embrace…

…a feeble cry escaped the little girl.

His heart began to break, at the pitiful sound, squeezed out through burning pain.

“Hold on! It will be okay!”, he told her, keeping his deep voice as calm as possible as he rushed out of the alleyway.

“It will all be okay! Shhhh! It will be fine, little one!”.

The first second in Romania…

…and he already had someone in his arms who was in danger.

The more he held her, the more he felt her body grow colder with every struggled breath. Choking on his, desperation began to fuel his body.

‘This cannot be happening! This is not true! I’m still in that plane, aren’t I?!’.

With inhuman power and agility, he jumped out of the shadows like a white lightning bolt.

There was no necessity for him to hide that he was something inhuman, not if that would cost the life of a child.

But just as he jumped over the rooftops…

…a man with white hair observed in awe at the nearly godlike speed.

A smile spread on his tanned lips. Turning cross dangling around his neck between his fingers, he whispered to himself. “I see…Is that the mana you felt arrive?”.

What seemed delusional to others, was a silent conversation.

_‘Yes. No doubt about it, master. That is him. The pressure of his mana…feels dangerous. His mana circuits must be inhuman.’._

“Do you think he could take on a Servant?”.

_‘That I do not know, but it might be the case. But there is no doubt, he would be a formidable asset to your plan.‘._

A small laugh escaped his lifted lips as a first drop landed on his nose.

The sky had turned dark, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Opening his black umbrella, he spun on his heel.

“Let us see. If that man is supposed to summon our Archer…I wonder who he is going summon?”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His first steps into Romania beginn with something he wished was nothing but a nightmare.
> 
> To those who jumped right into it, I suggest reading one of my first stories 'Curse of life' to grasp who or what Crio is. His backstory is explained there and further stories tell more about his connections to the Fate/Stay Night cast.
> 
> How did I come up with name reconnected?
> 
> For one because I want this to be a remake of Apocrypha not only with focus on the red side, but more to give the characters the development they deserved. The actual novel I was never able to read because fantranslations never made it to the end and the anime was too short for the mass of characters. 
> 
> Second, the part with the connection. Many of Fate's characters are already connected to each other. Using that I thought what I could do to give Characters more development, something to struggle with. A friend of mine on DA had a created a piece of Artwork that gave me the idea I needed.
> 
> Be aware that the focus of this will really be on the red side to contrast the Anime's attention on the black side. While they also had their fair share of underdeveloped Characters like Avicebron, overall they got more than those that were shown as the characteristic 'evil' faction.
> 
> Focus in this chapter was that while Crio is an incredibly ruthless and brutal fighter, he is very troubled on the inside. There is still a lot to be discovered.
> 
> And with that, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter :)


	3. Underneath the moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely having reached a hospital, Crio had waited what felt like hours, gnawing on his nails in hope he arrived on time. 
> 
> But what the doctors told him shattered any hope he had.
> 
> Sitting on a bench in the middle of the night, Crio's mind never left the innocent girl he found bloodies and beaten, now on the verge of death, reflecting on the sole wish in his heart...
> 
> ...as an ominous presence reached out from the dark...

_“Out of the way! I need a doctor, right now!”._

_“Sir! Please wai-Wait a second! That is-!”._

_“No time! She was beaten on in an alleyway! I fear that she is suffering from internal bleeding! She needs medical aid, right now!”._

While he had to wait and watch the girl be carried to the intensive care unit, he heard her meek voice cry to him.

She was hurting…begging for her father and mother to come.

He waited. Every second turned more unbearable to him. Silently praying to the gods, his forehead pressed against his curled fists, Crio bit into his lips. And when the doctor finally came out, taking off his gloves…

_“How is she?”._

_“Broken ribs, fractured arm and internal bleeding. We are doing everything we can, but…”._

_“…Please do. If there is any chance for her survival, please...I will try to find her parents. They need to know…”._

_“There is no need to, sir.”._

_“Why?”._

_“She is an orphan people know well around this part of town. A good soul. People had been trying to help her get adopted into a good family, but she clung to her desire to see her parents, thinking they were alive somewhere. She was told over and over that her parents died in an accident, but she clung to her desire…”._

_“…I see…”._

_“I am sure, she is thankful for everything you did for her…Should we call you when…”._

_“Keep me up to date on her condition…”._

Day turned to night. The beauty of the night sky was tainted. It felt wrong to be so beautiful tonight when someone’s life was in danger.

The can of iced coffee in his hand did nothing to ease his mind. The sweet bitterness tasted like water.

“A fire…”.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes fixated on the brightest star of Orion. What shone so beautifully…

…made him think of the spark of an inferno.

How he jumped inside there to save a child, only to have her die days after, begging for her parents to come to her, cradling his large hand.

The smell of ash in the air.

The burning sensation of his skin.

_“…Papa…”._

_“…You’ll see him soon…”._

_“…Papa…is that you? It hurts…”._

_“…It will be alright…I am here…”._

In the end, to give her peace of mind, he acted as if he was her father, stroking the little fingers that clutched onto him.

Crio cried like he just lost his own child to Charon’s hands when the monitor gave the horrifying sound of a stopping heart.

He did not call anyone that night. Praying silently, he hoped for her to have found peace.

“…I am cursed, aren’t I?”.

A question that came over his lips much too often. Enveloped by his grief, slowly beginning to choke, his adam apple moved, barely able to speak. The weight of the girl’s life made his body feel heavier with every passing second and no call from the hospital.

Gripping his hair, Crio clenched his teeth. “It was enough that I suffered through hell as a child. But I couldn’t stay with just me, right? Can I not spare others from being tortured? From losing their parents?”, he asked himself, feeling how he fell into that pit. The grip on his white strands tightened. “To suffer from being lonely and unloved?”.

Whenever he gazed down, he saw countless hands reaching for him, skinless and bloody.

Among them, where the small ones of children, the ones he tried to desperately reach with everything he could to save them from falling further.

But in the end, these hands were overshadowed by the corpses of all his victims over the millennia that wished to curse his life.

“I…just want to save children. That is all. If I am supposed to end lives until my body crumbles for you blasted gods, allow me at least to give children a future! Is that too much to be asked?!”.

He had seen too much already.

Sons beaten to a near-death state by their fathers.

Daughters being drowned for fun and pulled up by frustrated mothers, cursing their children for their misfortune.

Abandoned orphans on the streets, begging for only a small tip, their frail bodies barely covered by rugged clothes.

And then those children that had loving parents…

…but lost them in a tragic manner.

Much like the little girl he met once that lost her parents on her birthday.

A plane crash landed into the ocean, sinking to the bottom. An engine failure caused one of the turbines to fail. To this day it was unknown if that came from the ground staff having slandered on the regular checkup, or it was a sabotage. The victims were countless.

That girl with soft violet hair barely reaching her shoulders, a few strands made into twin tails held by hairbands with red orbs.

Her eyes were dead for so long.

The soft sob he had turned into a vicious growl. A beast protecting its cub that was already on the verge of dying.

But truth was that behind those bared teeth and hoarse throat, Crio felt more vulnerable than ever before.

Anger.

Helplessness.

Frustration.

…Sympathy…

All those feelings formed a storm in his chest that threatened to tear his heart apart all those close to him repaired.

A hand began to reach out to his shoulder…

A small blue spark of electricity crackled between himself, a warning call, and the intruder behind him giving a startled gasp.

“If you take one more step that hand is as good as gone…”.

“I did not wish to startle you. Excuse my intrusion.”, the calm voice of a young man behind him reached Crio’s ears, younger than his physical age.

Taking a step forward, the fingers of his left hand pressed together, his mana formed a dense cloak of blue energy.

And with a swift spin on his heel, pointed the energy blade and his sharp glare at the newcomer.

Dressed in the clothes of an executor of the church, a cross dangling from his neck, he bore the face of what could only be explained as a saint. A warm, soft smile on tanned skin. Wild white hair, shining as the cloud that covered the moon faded.

A smile Crio already hated from deep within.

Keeping his distance and his weapon ready to cut the man’s throat, Crio warned, his tongue sharp: “If you ever sneak up on me like that again, you might as well put one of your black keys into your neck, Executor. Who are you?”.

With his time with Rin and Shirou, Crio had learned a lot about those hidden within society.

The mages of the clock tower and the executors of the church.

Two factions having a close eye on the other.

A certain priest came to Crio’s mind. Callous in nature, yet amused by human suffering, a theater to entertain him.

The one that forced Cu Chulainn under his command and had the eccentric Gilgamesh as his partner in crime. Though Crio guessed he was just in it to see what chaos the priest would wreak upon this civilization he so hated.

A small chuckle escaped the man, lifting his hands in front of him with a small wave. “I am not here for a fight. I apologize for startling you.”, he apologized nervously, his warm, hazel eyes opening, and gazing into Crio’s distinctive ocean blue’s.

In his current state, they were dead.

A great white shark came to mind, shooting to the surface with jaws out to rip into a victim’s flesh.

It made the man shudder a bit. The very thought of being caught in the open waters with such a beast swimming around you was terrifying.

That he felt as he stood across from Crio with only the bench separating them.

Lowering his hand, he bowed politely. “I only wish to speak.”.

“And what is there to speak about to a stranger?”, Crio threw back almost instantly.

The man’s lips lifted at Crio’s awareness, giving a small grin. Straight and his shoulders relaxed, the man walked around, always with Crio’s attention entirely on him. Taking a deep breath, he folded his hands in front of him, shooting Crio a small, sympathetic smile.

In the dead of night he began to whisper. Barely audible to ears but his and Crio’s.

“There is a way to save all children in this world.”.

The blade of mana flickered for a moment…

…before seemingly growing a bit longer.

Focused anger fully on the man, Crio slowly began to realize what he has been thrown into by the goddess. The mane gazed over the blade with an astonished look. “Your mana is incredible. It is nothing short of inhuman.”. “You…are talking about a holy grail, aren’t you?”, Crio carefully replied to the man’s tease.

He remembered the remains, the shattered pieces of the cursed artefact.

The very cup that cursed Artoria to fight war after war.

The one that nearly robbed Medea of her happiness with Souichirou.

The one Kiritsugu Emiya attempted to destroy, with only Shirou and Artoria succeeding in the task years later after his death.

With a small sigh, Crio put his hands into his pockets. ‘Ramblings of another mad man.’. “Ridiculous.”, Crio discarded as he made his way out. “Trusting an item that is supposed to grant every wish possible nearly caused an entire city to be engulfed in flames and chaos. Do yourself a favor and forget that stupid cup, Priest.”.

His small warning was only temporary. If ignored, Crio already had remembered the mana. He would hunt him down no matter where…

…and take his head.

Crio’s advise was met with a small chuckle. He ignored it at first as the man being mad with desire for the grail or that Crio just struck a nerve. His fingers twitched, ready to kill the man here and now.

“If we were talking about that cup in Fuyuki, I wouldn’t be standing here.”.

Eyes wide, Crio chocked a bit. “How do you…?!”.

Turning his head, his gaze once more locked with the friendly ones of the priest. “I am sure, you would draw a rather remarkable Servant. Even a more unknown legend would be powerful with your mana to draw from.”, the man continued with that unnerving smile. With a slight polite bow, ready to take his leave, the man asked: “Please, I would enjoy you coming for a visit.”. Pointing at the tower of a church piercing the sky, he saw Crio’s eyes follow with deep doubt. “I will explain everything to you there…’Master of the great holy grail war…’”.

“Great…holy grail war?”.

Silently Crio followed how the man disappeared into the narrow streets of Sighisoara.

The wind his only companion, Crio turned away to the direction of his accommodation. With a deep frown, his sharp tongue clicked. “So that is what you threw me into, woman.”, he cursed, yet understood his task right now.

Find this new holy grail…

…and destroy it…

Gazing up at the moon, in confusion, he began to wonder one thing. His hands on his chin, a habit of his when he began to think, Crio gazed up at the stars one more time.

‘If they needed a master…why did you choose me instead of Shirou or rather Rin?’.

Even if it was Shirou and Artoria that were ultimately victorious, Crio knew that Shirou’s body is still in the building process with his magic circuits being slowly awakened. In that regard, Rin was the more obvious choice with her aptitude as a master and that she could keep a stubborn Servant like Archer in check.

He could not understand the plan the goddess had for him, the woman with the white hair covering azure glinting eyes and a pure dress.

Alone he took a moonlit walk, taking in everything he knew and puzzling it together…

…to keep himself occupied from the still missing call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And our first big bad 'red' steps into the spotlight.
> 
> Since my story takes place after the holy grail war in Fuyuki, Crio has of course less than fond memories of the man wearing the clothes of an executor of the church.
> 
> Bit it hearing 'yorokobe' the entire time or a certain Archer's obnoxiously loud laugh.
> 
> Though nothing against Caster Gil! That guy has my utmost respect.
> 
> Maybe I will do something about him and Siduri one of these days in my Chaldea one-shots.


	4. Of Red and Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting for the the call of the hospital, Crio attempted to wrap his mind around the man he met yesterday. 
> 
> Heading his words, he went to the promised location...
> 
> ...and finds himself caught in something much worse than the fifth holy grail war.

## Of Red and Black

Warmth…

On his skin, that warmth felt good. The rays of the sun sing of life and happiness.

Light was good…that was the general believe of society.

But in his long life, he found people obsessed by that light, showing monsters that hide behind the rays.

Priests, saints, hypocrites saying they are doing things for the good of the people while standing on mountains of corpses.

Priests…

It all lured Crio’s thoughts back to the meeting with the Executor of the church, wearing a smile too soft to be trusted for someone with Crio’s life experience. But not only that was wearing down his mind.

His sapphire eyes were fully fixated on the screen of his phone.

It was 12 a.m.

He didn’t know for how long he had been staring at his phone. Every second, waiting and hoping, for the call of the doctor. His heart yearned to hear ‘She will make it. She will be fine.’. That was all he wished for. That the child he barely saved would be alive so he could get her of the streets.

But his mind knew already. With those kinds of wounds, she would not make another night, if she was even still alive.

Lighting another cigarette, putting his phone into his coat, Crio made himself on his way down the narrow path through to the outskirts of the town. The only other thing that bothering him would find answer there.

The priest from last night.

At the front gate, Crio let his gaze wander around the entire area.

The front yard was adorned by a beautiful array of flowers of all kinds. A peaceful atmosphere, the wind taking petals on the journey to the unknown, dancing past his face. The garden didn’t sit well with him.

It was so peaceful, it was treacherous.

He had barely stepped inside the yard and he felt as if someone was ready to put a knife between his ribs.

Stopping in front of the door, he muttered under his breath. “Somebody is watching me…”. It wasn’t just a pair of eyes, but he felt as if he was inside an invisible dome, a trapped bird…

Only that he was not a bird, but a shark whose backfin has yet to slice the water surface.

‘Need to keep my guard up.’, he reminded himself, pressing his palms against the wooden surface.

The doors opened with a push…

…revealing an eerie silence.

Two rows of benches going from the front of a statue all they way to the entrance, held apart by a red carpet.

However only one person was inside.

On the middle row to his left, Crio noticed the spiked white hair of the priest.

Not minute inside and the priest felt his presence already. “Welcome. I am glad you were able to come to a visit.”, he greeted Crio.

Again Crio felt his stomach twist like it did last night. He wanted nothing more but to take that man’s head right here and there and go home, but there was more to this war than he was told last night.

He had the feeling that killing the priest at this very moment could cause more chaos than leaving him alive.

Giving the friendliest look he could muster at the moment, already very proficient in acting, Crio took a seat beside the priest. “You made me ponder a bit last night and left me with too many questions. Did you expect me to just leave you be?”. “Actually I half expected you to barge in here and go for my neck.”, he admitted with a halfhearted laugh.

His neck still felt tingly after the small shock he from Crio got last night.

And ability Crio was very adept in.

Electricity formed by his own mana.

He could form it however he wished.

A spear to throw like the king of the gods.

Cover his hand to make it resemble a blade.

One of many abilities he had to master to be able to assassinate gods, even unassuming ones.

Crossing his arms, Crio leaned back against the backrest. Taking a deep breath, Crio went straight to the point, scowling at the treacherous lights of the stained glass. They depicted nothing in particular, only there to cast rainbow colored lights on the ground.

“Well, explain. Who are you? What do you want from me? How do you know about the grail and Fuyuki?”.

“Allow me to begin with an introduction.”, the priest began, with a hand on his chest and a slight bow, as best as was possible.

“My name…is Kotomine Shirou.”.

Crio’s mind shattered into a thousand pieces.

Of all the name combinations…

The internal scream Crio held back could have been heard all the way back to Japan, he was sure of that. His lower right eyelid beginning to twitch, he closed his eyes, yet began to grind his teeth for a second to vent his frustration in silence.

This name was an unholy union of protagonist and antagonist.

“K-Kotomine…Shirou?”, was pretty much wheezed. Crio fought to keep his poker face up and the color on his face from paling.

Inside however, Crio was throwing tables, benches, mountains, anything that wasn’t nailed on the ground.

‘Shirou Kotomine?! Malaka! Who came up with that?!’, he roared and thrashed around.

Keeping the utter confusion in check with a very deep breath, Crio cracked his left eye open. “Just by chance…are you a relative of Kotomine Kirei?”, came the carefully chosen question. A small smile spread on his Shirou’s lips. “I see. So you met my brother.”. “B-Brother…huh?”. ‘This is getting worse by the second!’.

“Yes. Though we didn’t have much of a relation. I was kindly adopted by his father, Risei. And the last time I saw him, was on his funeral. I never heard of him since he was sent as a master to the fourth holy grail war in Fuyuki and acted as a referee in the fifth.”, Shirou explained. His voice didn’t show any signs of grief, but his eyes showed a shadow of regret. “Something was not right with him. It was as if I was staring into a black hole whenever we met. That is why I took a certain distance from him after a while.”.

Kotomine Kirei…

A black hole…

That was a perfect description of the deceased mad priest. Hair a bit wavy, shoulder long. Dark eyes that barely showed any emotion. A calm smile on his face whenever he viewed the masters like the actors in his play. A man that only found joy in the suffering of others, acting as a judge, yet being the manipulator.

It was good that Shirou and Artoria were able to persevere against that mad priest and the king of heroes, even if it was by the brink of their teeth.

Now Crio was faced with a Kotomine himself.

More than Kirei’s almost amused tone, he found this one’s overwhelming innocence in his voice.

“You were good to do so…also, one other thing.”.

“I will get to the holy grail war in a second-“.

“No, something else.”, Crio averted with a good look around him. All this time, even right now, he felt watched. Having had enough, he gave the priest a look. Shirou had the image of a bullet being shot right through his head and emerging on his other side of his skull.

That is how it felt for him to be at the end of Crio’s glare.

“I know that someone else is watching me. And don’t hold me for a fool and say that there is no one. I can feel the mana around us as well as the eyes on my back.”.

Pursing his lips for a second, what looked like frustration turned out to be relief. A slow sigh escaped him. “I was worried you wouldn’t feel her for a second.”. “Her?”, Crio faked confusion. ‘So his Servant is a woman.’.

Straightening his back, Shirou calmly commanded to the air around them.

“You can show yourself, Assassin.”.

Crio glanced to his right. The feeling of tension in the air vanished, forming at his side.

In a vortex of purple light, a beautiful woman appeared at his side. A beautiful dress of black with golden ornaments, hair as dark as the night, long and shining. Her ears were long and pointed like an elf’s. It reminded him too much of Medea.

A woman that belonged on a throne. That was the regal aura he felt around her.

Curtsying, she greeted Crio with a smile before she took seat beside him. The smile of a puppeteer hiding her intentions, same as her master.

“So those were your eyes I felt on me the entire time. It was your Servant.”, Crio welcomed her with faked surprise. The Assassin giggled a bit at his shock.

Maybe she enjoyed him fearing her.

Maybe she thought it amusing that the eyes he felt on him were from a beautiful woman and he shocked of her appearance.

At this point in time, she was hard to read, and he wouldn’t lay his own intentions open so easily.

“My…a handsome master we have here…”, she giggled slightly, keeping her voice low. Not answering the ‘compliment’, Crio turned his attention back to Shirou. Asking about her real name would be a waste of time. Instead, he turned his attention back to Shirou. “So, you are the master of an Assassin Servant.”. “Exactly. Though, I am only one of two.”, came the reply swift to the question like an exchange of bullets. Gesturing to the Assassin, Shirou further explained. “She is the Assassin of Red. But there is also an Assassin of Black.”.

“…Red? Black? Why the colors?”.

Taking over the word, the woman began to dig further. “I am sure my master dropped the name already. This is not your average holy grail war, but something on a much bigger scale than that pitiful battle royal with 7 Servants.”. Her mysterious tone paired with what seemed to be joy sent a cold shiver down his spine Crio didn’t show.

The holy grail in Fuyuki was already dangerous enough with Shinji letting Medusa loose to nurture her own strength by attacking innocents, Kirei’s manipulation in the background and Heracles if Illya had ever set him loose upon the city.

“How many Servants are we talking about?”.

“…14…”.

A soft gasp escaped his lips. The shock sat deep in his legs.

“Fourteen Servants?”. “Exactly. In this war, there are two factions.”, Shirou took over again, letting the Assassin rest and observe. Crio felt how she gazed his body over, fixated on the various scars on his neck and face. It felt as if she looked for a weakness, an open spot or unhealed wound.

Any spot to ram a weapon into his body and twist it.

He was already used to such looks, so ignoring it was easy. Keeping his focus, Crio listened. Shirou held his two palms skywards. “The black Faction and the red Faction. The black Faction a coalition of mage families that got the grail in their possession. We, the red Faction, were sent to retrieve the grail because the clocktower felt the Ygdmillenia family, that is how they are called, to grow too powerful with the grail. Have you heard about the clocktower before?”. “The mage institution in England, yes.”, Crio returned coolly while he remembered the bits and pieces Rin gave to him, telling him how she planned to study abroad with Archer’s dubious look on her back.

Stroking his muzzle, he though to himself. ‘They are completely unaware that this guy is probably not as trustworthy as they think.’.

“And the clocktower…are they the source of the info about what happened in Fuyuki?”.

“A certain contact there, yes. A former master who had a Rider Servant and participated the fourth holy grail war.”.

It was a split second.

In that split second, Crio saw himself at the harbor, hiding his presence underneath his black coat, his hood up as he observed the battle between the Lancer back in the day and Artoria, Kiritsugu searching for Lancer’s master through the scope…

…and the huge Macedonian conqueror king that interrupted the battle with thunder and laughter as his chariot landed between the battling knights.

And the young man feverishly clinging onto the chariot, pale as chalk.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me…’.

Flabbergasted the memories returned. In that war, he had merely observed, but one of the memories he was stuck with until he saw the king of Babylon again, was the night they ridiculed Artoria’s way of ruling…

…and how the proud king of Conquerors rushed across the bridge, nearly splitting Gilgamesh’s head open if not for the chain of heavens restricting his movements, seconds before the strongest noble phantasm in existence pierced through the greek armor.

The cries of the boy in his mind, Crio had to hold back a soft curling of his lips. ‘So that is what the boy has been doing. Impressive.’, he complimented silently. Returning to a stoic tone, Crio asked further: “If your contact had somehow kept watch of the holy grail war in Fuyuki, he must know already that it was destroyed. How come there is another war here?”. “Because that grail was an instrument of destruction.”, Assassin bluntly cut in.

Not turning his head anymore, Crio opted to lean back and listen. The constant change of voices was getting on his nerves. “I saw that much.”. “What you saw was all the world’s evils, Angra Maiyu, being released. That was also what burned large parts of Fuyuki. I am sure you heard about the gas leak years ago?”, Shirou took over once more.

“Barely.”.

“What happened was that once enough Servants were killed, the grail began to fill. However, it was tainted. Every wish on it would have resulted in the same catastrophe. But what we have here right now, is, you could say, the untainted version. The true holy grail…the Greater Grail.”, Shirou continued, a small scowl forming on his face. His hands on his lap began to clench. “At first it was thought only one existed, but it turned out that somehow a second was cultivated in secret before it was retrieved after the world war. And currently that one is in the possession of the black faction.”.

Every bit of info made Crio wish to vomit.

Millenia of experience flooded him.

Foolishness.

The foolishness of humanity to do everything, every abominable action if they could get a single wish of their granted.

The lives of others didn’t matter, as long as their selfish desires were granted.

It made sense that the grail was tainted.

“And that greater grail is able to grant wishes, not in the form of destruction?”.

“That is correct.”.

“Then my last question.”, Crio returned on point. Opening his eyes, he gazed into the priest’s eyes. “What do you need me for?”. A small smile on his face, Shirou returned his gaze forward.

“One of our masters got himself killed.”.

“So, I am a replacement?”.

“In a sense.”, Assassin added. “But don’t think about it as you replacing another. Take it as opportunity. Getting any wish of yours granted is not something anyone is allowed the bliss of.”. Crio slowly began to drum on his upper arms. Being caught between the priest and the Assassin was wearing on his nerves. “What am I supposed to do about it?”, Crio returned slightly annoyed. “I think you noticed by now that I am not a mage. I do not know how to summon a Servant and I do not even have a relic. Besides, what reason do I have for helping you to get the grail?”.

“Because their wish could create flames worse than those in Fuyuki.”.

Crio saw the disaster. The desire to help that day had been beating strong in his chest.

But the gods held him back.

Silently he had jabbed his fingers into his arms, watching how Kiritsugu helplessly turned every rock around, not even giving Gilgamesh and Kirei a glance…

…until the found the small light that would summon Artoria years later.

Though he did not trust the priest, that was the best option to uncover the truth about all of this…

…and what his intentions are.

“And how am I supposed to summon a Servant? I do not have a relic with me and if your master has died, then the relic is gone, correct? Somebody probably has summoned that Servant already, whoever it is.”, Crio retaliated to Shirou’s attempt to persuade him. Giggling a bit, the Assassin stood up. Arms crossed she gazed up at the stained glass.

“Relics are one way to summon us to this time…compatibility another.”.

“Compatibility?”, came curious tone the Assassin wanted to hear. Opening one of her beautiful yet dangerous golden eyes, she glanced at Crio. “Yes. Compatibility can come in many formats. The most important factor however, is your desire and your principles.”, she explained. “You are a handsome man and powerful to boot. We saw how you reacted almost too swiftly to my master’s clumsy attempt to start a conversation.”. Shirou nervously rubbed his neck at the glare he got from his Servant. “And I heard you curse in greek before. You have a large variety of heroes that could come to your aid just looking at your country alone.”. “Assassin is right. Leonidas, Odysseus, Jason, Heracles, Theseus, Perseus, Atalanta. The possibilities are endless, but not limited to your home land. You could get a Pharao like Ozymandias, a great samurai like Ushiwakamaru or one of the Shinmengumi like Okita Souji.”, Shirou added to the variety.

But Crio could not imagine himself with a Servant at his side.

Though his lips lifted at the last greek name that was mentioned.

The name Medea mentioned so often.

Her dear friend she lost sight of…

A sad smile spread on his lips. ‘As if I could summon someone like her. Not an abomination like me.’.

The word he hated with every fiber of his being.

A word that was stuck in his mind like a harpoon.

Abomination…

That was what the gods called him, what they created when the dragged the body of the small boy across the sands of Arcadia.

Taking a deep breath, Crio asked: “What am I supposed to do? There is some kind of ritual I have to perform, right?”.

“Nothing actually. It is already done.”.

Snapping his head to him with a risen eyebrow, Crio wondered what the priest did, a smile on the tanned lips. “I made your body into a moving summoning circle. Tonight your Servant will respond, whether you speak a chant or not. I am excited to see what Archer will arrive at your side.”, he wondered playfully as Crio stood up. His hand clenched the white shirt where his heart was. ‘I feel no different.’. “Are you sure that is going to work, priest? Also, how do you know it is an Archer?”. “Please, call me Shirou.”, the priest waved off as Crio began to walk towards the door, closely followed by the master and Assassin. “Just have faith. And about the class, our Master was supposed to summon Archer. But since his plane burst into flames, the relic is gone as well. Our other Servants are also already summoned. Assassin isn’t the only one. Once your Servant is at your side, please come back here and we’ll discuss the rest.”.

Grumping an affirmation, Crio nodded.

Outside the gate, the sun shone back down on his skin. He felt like he was cleaned from the words the priest spouted to him. “Idiot.”, he mumbled, beginning his walk to a nearby café.

“It doesn’t matter if the that grail is real or not. It doesn’t matter if it can truly grant wishes or not. Once it falls into the wrong hands, that greater grail will cause chaos as much that thing in Fuyuki.”.

Gazing at his phone, his teeth gritted in frustration as the absence of a call, Crio muttered with hands in his pockets.

“I will participate. I will find it…and shatter it into a thousand pieces.”.


	5. Waves of blue, leaves of green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silently he grieved...
> 
> Alone, surrounded by walls of trees around a pond that showed him his own reflection he wished to shatter...
> 
> Cursed, he thought. He was cursed, unable to save lives.
> 
> “I…just wish for a world were children are safe and loved…Nobody should suffer like I did…be tortured like this…turn into what I am…a soldier…a weapon…an abomination…no matter what you want to call it…”.
> 
> The connection is set...

Night arrived sooner than expected.

Sitting by a pond, his eyes cracked open, Crio gazed at his own reflection in the water.

Lips pursed, unable to even speak a word, he clenched the phone in his hand.

Silently he cursed the world, the beautiful sight of the fireflies unable to soothe his troubled mind.

He cursed and cursed.

_“Sir, we don’t know how to say it, but…”._

_“You don’t need to…I guessed as much…Was she in pain?”._

_“No. She faded peacefully.”._

_“At least she found peace. I will come by tonight. I know it is much to ask but…I can only make it after midnight…”._

_“We have a nightshift available. I will write your name down so they allow you to see her a last time. I am sure…she would have liked to at least say goodbye to the man that was so kind to her…”._

His teeth nearly tore into the soft flesh of his lips.

A right fist lifted into the night sky.

“DAMNIT!!!”.

Frustration, released in a thunderous roar.

The ground had a dent from the force his right fist crashed down with. Alert the animals in those woods hid. Biting his lips, Crio fought to urge to cry out again. But once more he found himself in the same situation, he did years ago.

The girl he tried to save was dead.

“Damnit all…I cannot save a single child, can I?!”.

All to himself, Crio had all the space he needed to let loose of his frustration and sorrow.

He could roar.

He could cry.

He could ravage his surroundings.

But thanks to the fact he had been thrown from mission to mission his entire life, he never knew what it meant to grieve properly, always pushing those feelings into the deepest, darkest pit he found in his heart. So long until they would tear him to pieces from the inside out.

Even now as his nails dug into his palms, tearing his skin open, he didn’t know what to do.

Helpless.

A god of chaos.

A blade of the gods.

A monster feeling utterly helpless.

“Can you…not allow me to save a single life? What had she done to be beaten like a stray dog and die like this!? Why?!”, he asked the full moon that shone down on him.

A gentle light, trying to cast his sorrow away.

But the inability to get an answer frustrated him more.

“I know that you bastards are listening! You did every time!!”, Crio bared his teeth with a bestial growl. He felt as if he just lost a child of his own. “Every damn time you interrupt me, telling me that it was for the greater good. For what greater good did she die?! That I let these bastards live?! If that is your grand plan, I am going back there and kill those three right now!!”.

He held back his tears. With every bit of mental strength he had, Crio fought his own desires to relieve himself of the deeply stabbing pain in his chest.

This one time…

…he did not want to stay calm and collected.

He wanted to rage about.

He wanted to cause havoc.

This one time was one too many, and for that, he wished to be true to the cursed title they threw on his shoulders.

Taking a deep breath, unable to curse the moon anymore, his blue eyes lowered to his own reflection. She was gone, and killing those three would not help anymore. “I will pick up flowers for you…as soon as I can. I don’t even know your name, but I want you to have a peaceful trip to your parents…”, he whispered. It was the only thing he could to for her now.

His phone in his pocket, time was forgotten…

…when it struck midnight.

A new day, beginning with a wish.

“I…just wish for a world where children are safe and loved. Nobody should suffer like I did…be tortured like this…turn into what I am. A soldier…a weapon…an abomination. No matter what you want to call it…”.

Folding his hands, Crio rested his head on them, thinking about what he had to do. “A wish…A Servant…”, he released with a deep breath.

Like the waves crashing against the beach, memories began to wash over his grief.

Inside his mind, he felt the rain drop down on him again, his arms wrapped around a Caster that took his shoulder as support for her tears.

_“Those horrible lies spread after her death…”._

_“That is what happens when times pass, Medea…”._

_“Crio, I cannot imagine what you read about her, but believe me, all of them are lies! She was never married!”._

_“She wasn’t?”._

_“No. The tale of her races spread everywhere, but the truth was dug underneath the soil of Arcadia. Hippomenes had tried to use golden apples, but the first second she saw one in his hand ready to drop, she lunged at him. The golden apples rolled on the ground in front of a shocked spectator. He was faced with a fury nobody wanted to see from her when she realized that she was lured towards them. She pulled him back by his hair, held him up as a warning that whoever broke the rules of her race, would be sent to Hades without a second chance. Pushing one of the golden apples into his mouth like a pig ready to be roasted, I heard he gave a muffled cry before she broke his neck.”._

_“That at least sounds more believable than just picking up a fruit and stopping all of a sudden. But if she did that, suitors must have been afraid of her.”._

_“Before I tell you more, my friend, what do you like about her?”._

_“…Come again?”._

_“What do you like about my friend?”._

_“Medea, I don’t know what you are getting at. If anything, what I felt was pity. I read her story when I was a child, at least before my people were slaughtered. Her agility, her proficiency with the bow, her unwavering will. Those were things I adored about her. And…it broke my heart every night I read that she was raped and cursed for something she never wanted to do of her free will…thanks to that whore Aphrodite.”._

_“Of course they used that bitch of a goddess that cursed me to mess with her story as well! Let me tell you again, Crio, that everything you read about her is a lie! She was too fast, too beautiful. Untouchable for males who wanted her like a prized pelt to hang on a wall! That was what got Hippomenes and many others killed. And yes, after that display, they got scared…”._

_“…Medea…are you crying?”._

_“…*gasp* Y-yes…”._

_“…What happened to her?”._

_“Her father…that night was enraged that she refused to marry…to give him a grandchild and a successor. Outraged at her father’s accusation, she told him that this would not have happened had he loved her mother and herself as his child. But his obsession with a son, an heir, led him to abandon her. She threw that fact in his face with a vow, telling him the little girl that was birthed that night was dead and she was her own woman. She would not marry a single man, because there was no one who would understand her. Her wish and her vow. *gasp*. I told her that I am sure there was a man out there who would support and love her, but her father broke her hopes, shattered it to pieces! A soldier was watching, saying he saw the king rush at her to grasp her neck. He didn’t know what he wanted to do. Probably strangle her…maybe something even more morbid. But living in the wild for so long honed her instincts and she dodged with great finesse…and by accident made him stumble over the balcony.”._

_“?! He-“._

_“He died instantly, his neck broken from falling down head-first. As the soldier’s wide eyes gazed over the dead king’s crooked neck, the second they met hers, she ran for her life! He wanted to stop her, tell her it was okay and it wasn’t her fault! But she was too fast. And when others found the corpse, remembering the races, they thought she had begotten a blood dept, killed her father by her own will. And soon sell sword were going for her head.”._

_“…”._

_“…She was found days later…Apparently she was poisoned, found dead in a cave. Either the poison killed her, or she starved herself to death. When I heard of the news, I was crying to myself until I faded! My life turned into hell afterwards. I was betrayed by Jason and lost my only friend! I became the witch they all saw in me. She promised to live with me if her father did something foolish. And then those horrid tales spread because people found a pair of male lions hunting in the woods and the stupid rumors caused them to violate her life! Crio! She was never married. She never found a man to marry! Someone Artemis would allow to be at her side. She was betrayed at every corner, just like myself! What you said that night at the harbor, that was true, right? You said that even though you never met her, you loved her. That was no lie?”._

_“…”._

_“…Crio…please tell me!! I am breaking apart from the inside! Those nightmares aren’t ending! I see her corpse every night! Please…”._

_“Every word I said was true, Medea. When I asked the moon why she had to suffer…when I said I loved her, not caring about her appearance, I said the truth…That was what my heart wanted to say to her for the longest time…I wanted…”._

“…to tell Atalanta that I loved her…”.

Out of his thoughts, Crio struggled to breath.

His throat felt like it was squeezed by a pair of bony hands. That heart to heart he had with Medea he never forgot.

A rueful smile spread on his lips.

Because he now knew exactly whom he desired.

“I loved her life. How she ran through it, never turning back. If…I had to choose one Servant…If I was allowed one…I would love for it to be you, Atalanta.”, he hoped a bit.

A gust of wind blew by, carrying with it the emerald leaves of the protective trees, a wall that guarded the beautiful pond from curious eyes.

He nodded, the smile growing into laugh of pure self-pity. “Who am I kidding. I am a monster by default. If anything, I would get something abominable. If Medusa turned into a Servant, then mine would probably be something like the Hecatoncheir, if it wasn’t an Archer. It could never be someone so beautiful and elegant…”.

He could not see how green sparks began to surround him.

…

The breeze felt good.

To the woman sitting amidst a meadow, behind her a forest, it felt good.

The grass beneath her bare feet felt good.

The sky was marvelous to look at and the sea invited to for a swim.

She hated it.

‘My life…was nothing but full of betrayal…’.

Laying down on the grass, the woman protectively curled up in the warm grass. Emerald eyes shut, yearning for the sun to vanish. Her long, blonde locks, pale at the ends and lush green in front of her face before her lion ears, the wind wrapped around her like a blanket.

She could see her entire life before her inner eye, unable to stop playing.

‘Abandoned by my father. He was disgusted that my mother’s womb didn’t gift him a son. And when she perished on the bed, he laid me down in Arcadia’s forests. I cried. I yearned for love…But my cries only attracted predators. I still remember the harrowing howl of the wolves as a I cried louder.’.

She could see her. If she focused, she could see her again.

A pretty woman, too beautiful for mortals. Long white hair, the fully grown body of a woman covered in garbs of the most pristine white color with scarlet at the edges.

The baby stopped crying when woman knelt with a warm smile, picking up the startled infant in her arms.

And wolves grew silent when the apex predator stepped into the moonlight.

 _“Shhh. It’s okay, my little girl. It will be fine now…”,_ she whispered down toward the baby. The emerald eyes stopped watering and the baby began to laugh, reaching for her savior’s face with tiny fingers.

The baby grew, growing more beautiful with every passing year.

At a certain age, the goddess vanished, but the girl didn’t grieve.

‘When you saved me, my vow was clear. I would stay chaste, just as the goddess who saved me. I was met with ridicule for that by many men. Some told me that a woman was only good for providing a child. These fools met their ends sooner than expected. I didn’t care. I knew who I wanted to be. A symbol for all those unloved children. A sign of hope. Though it was a lonely life, I lived. Sometimes…I did hope there was a man that would smile at me when I told them of my wish to stay pure and what I desired to achieve in life. Someone who would embrace it, telling me that they would support it and myself. A man I could truly open myself up to.’.

The view changed. The girl, now a woman, saw herself on a great ship.

She gazed around curiously.

A ship on the calm sea, having gathered not only sailors, but also great legends.

Her view went to a large man. His skin was dark, his face handsome and his black mane wild and untamed like a lion’s. Despite the intimidating appearance, he smiled down at a man with short blonde hair laughing and speaking about his plans.

‘Heracles…Son of Zeus. An incredible warrior. His archery was impressive and I loved to compete with him. The strength he bore physically was only matched by his sense of justice and his strength of heart. He truly was a half god. I do not know how you could befriend someone like Jason. But maybe, though he is an idiot, there is something I have yet to learn about him.’.

Her green eyes wandered to a man in a black robe. Most of his face was hidden by a hood and a mask that resembled an eagle’s beak by form alone. His brilliant sky-blue eyes shined as a man seemed to have injured himself, though turned tired with an admonished grunt when it was only a small cut.

‘Asclepius. I don’t know what to think of him. The centaur Chiron taught him well. I will never say his knowledge of Medicine is a waste. But his desire for people to hurt themselves more grievously is dangerous. I hope his desire for knowledge will never be his undoing.’.

Standing in front of the ship, a group of three gazed over the ocean.

Two young people stood together, a male with short blonde hair and a girl that held a sword at her waist.

‘Castor…Pollux…The twins that would later be known as the star formation with the same name. The girl is a good soul, and her brother protects her fiercely. Though I have the feeling these two are the only support they have for another. Unlike…’.

The third one was a woman.

A warrior, told from the way she stood. Her body was strong with red markings all over her tanned skin. Without armor, an astonishing beauty, hair short and a beautiful silver as the moon, yet one whose life was cursed by the very sea she hated, turning her view blood red at times.

‘Caenis. I cannot understand her. At one point, she turns melancholic and the other bloodthirsty. The god Poseidon had scarred her grievously with his lust for her. I cannot imagine what he has done to her. I feel sympathy for her, having met males myself more often than not that thought they could easily have their way with me, before I kicked their legs in and made them beg for their lives.’.

Turning her head across from her, her gaze fixated on a man with long, wavy violet hair. He had a small goatee and an overall soft expression as he went over a list of items with a sailor. For once her lips were tugged into a smile.

‘Ah, Peleus. A good soul and an even better friend. One of the view males I truly respected and who respected me in return. We often stood side by side and silently watched the ocean before we exchanged tales of our lives. Often in a circle when we all gathered, we’d sit beside each other because we found the presence tolerant as we drank wine. He hated drinking too much, despising when men were drunk and slept in bed with a woman. He was pure, and it is no wonder that the goddess Thetis fell in love with him. He always told me that if he had a son or daughter, he would tell them all about me.’.

And when she turned her gaze to her left…

…bright violet eyes beamed at her with a smile before hugging the woman clad in green.

Unable to resist the girl’s affection, the blonde woman wrapped her arms around the girl.

Opening her eyes, the dream ended with regret.

“Medea…”, she whispered the name that was so dear to her heart. “You were one I called sister…After what Jason did to you, I promised to stay with you. We exchanged so many words. I still remember…”.

Hands on the green grass, the woman sat up, leaning back on her palms. Taking a deep breath, her slim chest rising, the woman’s lips quivered softly.

“I never wanted to leave you alone! I thought…my father truly regretted what had happened…but…”.

_“I do not care whom it is. Be it a prince, a king or a simple farmer. Bear me a boy, daughter. Give me a grandchild to give my throne to.”._

_“Bastarde! I should have known from the beginning that this was your intent. Someone like you, who’d abandon a baby would never be able to turn a new leaf!”._

_“You are now in my palace again, and my daughter. And you have your task. Suitors have already banged on the door after hearing your travel on the Argo and the hunt on the Caledonian boar.”._

_“I will not-“._

_“You are not getting out of here anymore. Choose your man and do what a woman should: Bear a son…not like your mother.”._

“I wanted to return to you, my sister. But I was trapped…trapped until he fell and died.”.

Mourning her life, she pulled her knees in. The least bit of comfort she had, had nearly always been herself.

“You said there was a man out there for me. And yet I died alone, rotting in a cave. I wonder what I did wrong in my life.”, she wondered. Closing her eyes, she pressed her face against her knees. “I…just wanted someone to love me…Love me for who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. Unconditional love. But that was all for naught. That desire would not be granted as long as I had my vow and only that one wish left as I grew weaker and faded to the underworld…”.

Her heart began to pump louder inside her chest.

“I wish for a world where all children are loved…That is why I fight.”.

A sigh escaped her. Masters she had many…

…but acceptable ones were a rarity.

“I had nothing but fools as masters. Every time I was summoned through a piece of my dress or an arrow lodged in a tree. And when I truly awoke, I was faced with an idiot.”.

She remembered clearly.

_“My, my! You really are a wild beauty! How about you forget your wish and stay with me after the war is over? I can show you things you never experienced.”._

_“I do not care about poor children. I want to strengthen the name of my house. That means, if I tell you to kill a child, you will. Understood, Servant?”._

Licking her lips, she could still taste the blood, smell their fear and listen to their bone chilling cries.

“As idiotic and egocentric as these bastards I send to Hades in my lifetime, or self-absorbed and ruthless. I killed them before the war truly began and returned to the throne of heroes. And even if I had a passable master, they turned out to be reckless fools that got themselves killed. I am an Archer. We cannot over much protection. We have to fight from distance. That is our strength.”, she muttered, her anger wielded by a sharp tongue. Her nails dug into the skin of her forearms.

“Maybe…before I…wish for a world for children…can I…”.

Turning her head up, the woman closed her eyes. Her eyebrows dropped softly, enjoying the breeze as best as possible.

“Lady Artemis…can I…receive a master who understands me?”.

…

The connection was set.

Snapping out of his trance, Crio shot up. The feeling of mana gathering behind him awoke him from his daydream.

“What is-“, he muttered barely in his shock. Suddenly, a wave of weakness fell over him, nearly forcing him to his knees. His body began to feel heavier by the second.

His heart was throbbing, pounding in his ears.

‘Again that feeling of weakness! It is the same when that woman approached me! What is-‘.

Feeling a small sting on his hand clenching his chest, Crio gazed down at its back.

Wide his eyes grew, round as plates.

The shock froze his feet to the ground.

…

The day over the meadows turned into a deep, starlit night.

Feeling the air change, the woman rose to her feet. With a deep breath, she was armed by the wind.

In green lights, long black, thigh high boots appeared on her legs, wearing gold markings.

Black, plated gloves appeared on her hands, the tips of the fingers formed like the unsheathed claws of a lion.

And with them, a wonderfully crafted bow, dark as the night sky and adorned with golden markings.

Relaxing her muscles, the woman’s emerald eyes gazed up at the moon.

“Watch over me, lady Artemis…Medea…maybe this time, I can put an end to this…and grant my wish…”.

…

The second Crio’s weakness disappeared, he let his weapon appear in his left hand. In small flash of lightning, the marvelous white sheath adorned with the design of greek olive branches crawling up to the hilt was grasped in his palm.

Pressing against the handguard with his thumb, Crio’s frozen expression gazed as a shade formed amidst the emerald lights.

‘I do not know what Servant it will be. I need to be on guard. If it turns out it is someone like Gilgamesh, I need to remove them before anyone comes to harm…’.

That he vowed, pushing against the hand guard.

He would kill his own Servant if they were someone dangerous.

When the lights vanished, Crio was startled by who stood in front of him.

A beautiful, athletic looking woman about his physical age. The scowl on her face framed sharp emerald eyes taking a look around. She was wearing a dress in the most beautiful shade of green, only matched by her wild hair, devoid of the silkiness of the one of the Assassin of Red he met before.

Lush green at the front, turning a pale blonde where lion ears perked up, going all the way down to her waist and becoming as pale as the moon.

She looked like a beautiful beast in his eyes.

Taking a few steps forward, her black boots pretty much soundless like a great cat's soft paws, she gazed up at the man’s deep glare. Tension made the air seem ready to be ignited. She noticed that he was not enthralled like some of the males that went for her hand.

He was doubtful of her, aware.

Carefully they observed the others movements.

Feeling no threat, Crio’s thumb removed itself from the handguard as the woman lifted her lips a bit with a curious tilt of her head. Keeping her glare, she spoke to him.

“I ask you…”.

Her voice though womanly, a tone only a warrior could have, letting the question roll over her tongue.

“Are you my master?”.

The famous first words of any Servant…

Eyes of leaf green met by waves of ocean blue.

His mane of white and hers of blonde danced in the wind that surrounded them…

…cradling the new participants of the great holy grail war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here she is, the woman of the hour!
> 
> Since she is one of two main characters, that allows for me to explore her more than Apocrypha ever could. And since FGO has nearly the entire Argonaut crew on deck, that of course I had to mention them.
> 
> I hope you guys are having more luck with the Accel Order event than me. My luck was pretty bad :/


	6. A light amidst the darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amidst the fountain of green light she appeared...
> 
> A woman, a wild beauty.
> 
> She was no princess, that he knew, but beautiful to him in every way
> 
> "I ask of you...are you my Master?".
> 
> The tale of their first meeting.

“I ask of you…Are you my master?”.

The very first question.

Asking the identity of the first person meeting your eyes.

A question that pulled more weight than one would imagine in their mind.

If you were on the end of it, it meant that a bond had been forged between yourself and person right in front of you. And if you would answer positively…

…then you not only had your own wish to carry, but that of the Servant in front of you as well.

Only a few steps away, Crio didn’t know whether to be enthralled by the woman’s beauty or wary about her scowl that would scare away anyone who wasn’t used to it.

A scowl that bore two polished emerald eyes that seemed so bright underneath the moon. A sea of leaves right in those eyes. A world he could not hope to grasp. A life he did not know.

Eyeing the back of his right hand, Crio took a deep breath.

Red.

The back of his skin was bearing a marking. No scar as the ones running all across his body.

But something like a tattoo made of beautifully curved lines resembling an artwork. If one squinted their eyes enough, it could have looked like a dragon’s wing.

The Servant on the other side noticed his eyes squint when he looked at the symbol of their contract. He didn’t seem all that happy, not like she would have expected of a master. She held her groan inside at the sight of what seemed to her as discomfort.

The tips of his fingers went over his skin. His wonder of it being a dream was answered when the soft touch did not taint what was now embedded on the back of his hand. “Looks like I am…”, he muttered with a hint of displeasure. A calm life he wished to lead was nothing he was ever granted.

And now he was a participant in the great holy grail war.

The Servant’s cross-eyed look he barely noticed. She began to chew on the inside of her cheek. ‘I do not enjoy that look on his face. He seems dissatisfied. Is it because of myself…or is it because…’, she wondered. Inside that wonder, frustration rose, nearly cutting the surface that was her pokerface. ‘He doesn’t want to fight the war?’. A silent, swift shake of her head, pushing the though away for now, she began to muster the man across of her from head to toe. ‘Hm…No ordinary magus…A strong body, toned from battles. But he definitely doesn’t seem like the brainless sort. These scars are proof of many battles…’.

Before long however, her attention went on his face.

The long, mane like hair in the purest white, untamed and giving the appearance that he ran against the wind his entire life.

Blue eyes, a sapphire blue that was warm and inviting like the greek ocean she travelled aboard the Argo.

‘…He is quite handsome…’, she admitted silently, yet purely observantly in that moment.

Noticing the look he got, his own eyes began to muster the woman across of him.

Her body was delicate, chest slim. Long legs, the build of a fast runner, yet barely showed any signs of muscle.

But it was always what you don’t see at first that proves to be dangerous. 

Starting at her black boots, his eyes wandered up, taking in every detail, from the golden lines of the thigh-high boots, to the symbol at the front of her green dress. ‘I cannot recognize it. I wonder if it means something.’, he wondered before his attention went from her dress to her gloves. ‘Barely any armor. Maybe the priest is right. Artoria was wearing armor most of the time. A knight is out of question. And the dress is not made for camouflaging in the shadows, like an assassin, but more for the forests.’.

And same as her before, his gaze was lured again to her stunning emerald eyes that were framed by strands of green that turned blonde where lion ears were on her head.

‘…She is beautiful, no doubt about that. But she is no royalty.’, he swiftly returned before even beginning to gawk. ‘Her hair seems rough and unkempt, like the mane of a lion. Doesn’t make it any less stunning. A woman of natural beauty is someone you cannot compare to all those neatly dressed up girls running around in today’s time who start crying the second their nails have a crack in.’.

‘…He is taking his time checking me out…’, she noticed when he gazed her down again from head to toe. ‘No, that is not checking out my looks. That is a warrior’s gaze, as if he is looking for a weakness.’.

“…Can I presume you are an Archer?”.

“That is correct. My class is Archer.”, she answered nonchalantly, yet couldn’t help show a bit of pride. Archery was after all what formed her former life.

Before she asked anything else, her eyes locked onto the white sheath of his Katana dangling by his waist.

A beautiful sheath, a weapon she was unfamiliar with, having only either seen spatha, spears or axes.

But nothing that seemed as slender and sleek as a Katana.

The silence grew awkward when none said a word…

…until a leaf fell down between them, landing on the warm green grass.

Brushing past him, she gazed at the small scene of serenity.

A pond with clear water, surrounded by a beautiful array of flowers of all colors.

Deers were gazing curiously at the pair.

Crio glanced over his shoulder, sure to have a seen a soft smile on her lips.

“You chose quite a beautiful spot to summon me in, Master. I am surprised.”, came the small compliment. That was already more than she gave any man in her life. A small chuckle escaped his lips. “I just wanted to be out of town to be honest. I prefer nature more to a buzzling city. Huh?”.

The second he wanted to turn around, he felt something nudging his palm.

Curiously, a fawn was curiously sniffing his hand, the mother close behind it.

At the startled sound, the woman turned round with eyes round as plates as the baby deer was being curious.

Despite the terrifying look he had in his eyes before they even exchanged a single word, despite scars all across him being a testament of battles and torture, the animals were mostly at peace with him.

A smile spread on her lips when the Crio began to gently stroke the young animal underneath its jaw, seemingly enjoying it and nuzzling against him. The mother behind the baby didn’t even move, just silently observing the display.

And when its curiosity was satisfied, mother and child left Master and Servant alone.

All the time, Crio didn’t even notice Archer smiling behind him, but did once the animals were gone. A small flush on his cheeks, he swiftly turned his gaze forward, clearing his throat. “Uhm…How about we go for a walk instead of staying here and staring?”. “That is an idea. Lead the way, Master.”, she agreed, joining his side as they stepped out.

But amidst all that happened, he remembered a task he still had to fullfill.

“…Wait just a second, Archer.”.

Quietly observing, she gazed how Crio knelt down…

…making a bouquet of flowers.

Again she found herself smiling…

…though hiding a bit of sadness as something stirred her up inside. Biting that sadness down, she wittily asked: “A bouquet for your beloved? I am sure she will be happy to have such a considerate man.”.

Her joke however caused him to bite his lips.

“Nothing that enjoyable, Archer.”.

And the smile immediately disappeared at the small glint of grief.

Walking back to Sighisoara, the pair had begun to talk.

“I see…So you were actually not here to fight. But now you wish to participate? For what reason?”.

“It is complicated. Allow me to keep that hidden for now.”.

“If that is your wish, I will not complain. Though you did get me curious.”, Archer admitted, crossing her arms.

He had told her everything to the point of meeting the priest. His desire to the destroy the grail kept secret, he only told her about the talk he had with Shirou and Assassin, as well the other Servants had already been summoned.

But all this time, her eyes were on the bouquet.

At the outskirts of the city, empty aside from the lights of the lampposts, Crio noticed a vendor. A small smile spread on his face. “Would you like something to drink?”, he offered, pointing at the machine. Archer noticed now how dry her throat actually was from all that speaking, answering with a small nod.

Curiously she looked at the bottles and cans.

“…What are all those?”.

“Too many things to explain. Is there any kind of fruit you like?”.

“Hm…I do enjoy apples.”.

“Alright.”.

Crio had a small smile on his lips when the woman gazed down at the can of apple juice with no idea how to open it. Slowly frustration brought her lips to purse. ‘Ah, yes. The problems of a heroic spirit.’, he chuckled in silence to not aggravate his new Servant.

But he had to remember how Artoria had trouble as well when he saw her, Shirou and Rin outside, her face red when Rin and Shirou laughed at her for not being able to unscrew the cap of bottle.

“Let me show you.”, he offered, getting her attention with eyes as he showed her how to open the drink. Offering the one he opened to her, getting a few curious blinks of her long eyelashes, he laughed a bit. “I think it is a bit hard to do with the claws on those gloves. Take this one.”. “Much appreciated, Master.”, she answered thankfully.

At that instant, she had to hold in a snort, when Crio looked like he bit into a sour lemon.

“Please, by all means, do not call me Master.”.

“Oh? You do not like your Servant showing respect by calling you by your title?”.

“Title? Oh, please. I hate those formalities. Just call me Crio.”.

Her lips on the edge of the can, she blinked once more. ‘…Crio?’, her mind recited the name. Familiar words came into her mind. ‘Crio…Kryos? Is it…’.

“Just by chance…are you greek?”.

Barely cracking his drink open, he nodded. “That is right. You are swift to notice.”, he responded, completely calm. Archer grinned playfully up at him. ‘I see…So not only shows my new Master himself as a gentleman, but one of my country as well. Interesting.’. That playful look nearly got him to choke before even taking his first sip. “Oh? You are surprised of ME not being able to discern someone with such an obvious name? Really, Master.”.

“Stop calling me Master, please. And how should I realize a random woman beside me to find out my nationality so swiftly?”.

In her curiosity, her ears perked up. Something was wrong. “Wait…a random…? Say, how did you summon me?”, she asked with a sharp tone. With a small shrug of his shoulder, he explained: “Assassin said that compatibility could do the trick. I did not have one of those relics, so it was pure luck who I summoned. I don’t even know your name.”.

She felt how her cheeks grew warmer. But at the same time the situation didn’t sit right with her. ‘He summoned me…without a relic? That was pure luck?’.

“…You…cannot see my name?”.

“…No?”.

“…My parameters?”.

“Parameters? This is starting to sound like a game or something.”.

When he fixated his gaze on the ground, Archer began muster him again. Too much was out of place. ‘I see…He really is no ordinary man. He had no relic. No surefire way of summoning me to his side. He cannot see my name or parameters. Is he even a magus?’, she wondered, starting to worry.

Bound to their master, Servants were in constant need of mana during battle. That is one of the key necessities to walk among the living again.

Their master was the anchor and mana the chain.

Closing her eyes, she checked her surroundings.

Everything was dark…

…aside from the blue glow that looked like Crio’s core.

A small orb of blue flames…

…that suddenly burst into an inferno, burning her skin, enveloping her soul. The flames felt so hot that they could turn her very bones to ash.

In a frantic attempt to flee, she snapped out of her trance. Her heart was pounding in her ears, torqued to the extreme. Taking a deep shaky breath, she gazed up at the unsuspecting man, not feeling how she checked if he even possessed enough mana to sustain her.

But she did not expect to find a chaotic inferno.

‘That…was his mana…?!’.

Many different feelings had stirred up inside Archer. Awe, curiosity, but also…

…fear.

A primal fear of the unknown. Fear of a mere master.

Or…more what this man showed himself to be on the outside.

‘He is no magus, yet that mana of his…That is not normal. He can supply me with ease, probably even more Servants, but…’, she wondered.

More and more she grew curious about the white maned lion at her side sipping on his drink.

‘Crio…what are you?’.

And when he noticed her stare, he began to worry. “Is everything okay, Archer? Does it taste bad?”.

A soft question meaning no harm at all.

All worries seemed to wash away when his hardened gaze softened. The inferno she felt she saw turned into a small, warm candlelight in the palm of her hand.

Shaking her head swiftly, she smiled a bit. ‘I think I am worrying too much.’. “No, it tastes good. It is just curious that you cannot see anything when you focus on me.”. “I can imagine. I am not your typical magus.”, he chuckled a bit. He was much to different of those mages he witnessed before.

“I noticed. Well, then at least I should respond with my true name as well, if you desire me to call you by your own.”.

“No, it is fine.”.

Again, he startled the Archer at his side. Smiling a bit, his eyes fixated on the moon. “We barely met and know anything about each other. In the end, I might not even be the master you need for this war. Besides that, we are in the middle of town and unveiling your true name is dangerous.”, he explained, his face twisting into that of a warrior. “Watch and see what I am capable off. Then, if you think myself worthy, you can tell me your name.”.

When he wanted to turn to her, with a single glance from the corner of his eyes, the can nearly fell out of his grasp.

A smile, wide and shining bright. Her emerald eyes closed at a lofty giggle coming out of her lips.

And Crio’s heart was racing, unable to gaze into the blinding light.

“A respectful one. I like that. Alright, Crio. If that is what you wish, then I will keep my identity hidden until I think you can know who I am, ‘master’.”, she agreed to his conditions. Cracking an eye open to observe his blush fade with annoyance, grumbling under his breath something about her stopping to call him that, Archer still wondered one thing.

A hand on her slim chest, she asked herself.

‘If you had no relic, everything else comes from compatibility. You could say, Fate drew us together. I wonder though…what bound us together in the first place? An affinity for nature or…something much deeper?’.

In front of a large building after half an hour of walking, Archer gazed at her master. “Where are we? What is this place?”.

The hand holding the bouquet shook a bit. She felt herself that something was wrong.

Crio was anxious to step inside.

“…A hospital…See it as something similar to an Asclepeion.”.

Asclepions…

Healing temples that people would travel to in need of healing. A place dedicated to her old comrade, the wise Asclepius. Biting her lips, she expected something horrible inside.

The smell of blood, maybe even corpses. In order to get close to a medicine that could revive the dead, Asclepius wished for warriors to return with grievous wounds to heal, barely interested in even the smallest scratch.

“I see…Do you want me to dematerialize into my spirit form?”.

“…No. It is fine. You can stay with me like this. But…”.

Taking his long black coat off, he put it around Atalanta pulled the hood up. Her emerald eyes gazed up curiously with a soft gasp.

It was really faint but…

…she thought he was about to shed a tear before taking a deep breath, forcing a smile to not worry his Servant.

“Just keep that on for now. You have a beautiful dress, but you stand out in the open.”, he whispered to her.

She couldn’t speak at that moment. These was something of a desire to soothe whatever hurt him, but nothing came over her lips. Softly nodding, she followed him inside as the sliding door opened and they walked to the receptionist. “Excuse me?”, he got the attention of the woman in front of the pc. A young woman, probably around twenty, younger than the both of them in front of her. Her black hair was held in a bun and her hazel eyes were soft.

“Ah. You are the man that got her here?”.

“Yes. I heard she…”.

Unable to keep an emotionless face, the woman was ready to cry. Archer wondered what was going on, but it was easy to assume that this was what Crio meant by not enjoyable.

‘…He came to say goodbye to someone…’.

Wiping her tears, the woman stuttered a bit. “E-Excuse me, sir. Third floor…room thirty.”.

Archer watched as Crio extended his hand.

With the back of his finger, wiped a tear away, startling the young woman. “It’s okay. Thank you. I cannot tell you much, but you are doing a good job. Stuff like this…happens every day. It will face you over and over. You will grow from this, believe me.”, he voiced confidence with a warm smile.

“T-Thank you…This is my first night shift and…I-I had seen how a few patients were rushed inside…emergencies…”.

“It is okay. There will always be casualties. You cannot save everyone. But whenever do, think about the people you make happy.”.

Nodding with a last sniff, the girl began to smile as Crio gave a small wave with Archer following him closely. Glancing over her shoulder, she muttered softly: “Crio, how did you…”. “She is fairly young, so I expected her to have it tough. Being a nurse is a tough job.”, Crio whispered, his voice as low as possible to not attract any attention, trying to camouflage his aching heart.

“Seeing all those people rushed inside here can be disturbing and heavy on one’s psyche. Elderly, parents…children…all on the verge of death can be traumatizing. If you cannot see anymore what you are doing this for, your motivation for getting out of bed every day, then this is a nightmare to live in.”.

“…Children…”.

It was a very faint whisper, but Crio heard it clearly. Turning his head, he saw Archer’s expression growing sour, grasping her upper arms. A doubtful look spread on his face as they waited for the Elevator to arrive.

Archer had become increasingly silent. There was a soft shudder coming from her shoulders.

The rest of the walk had been silent.

But in front of the door, his hand on the handle…

“Archer…maybe you want to stay outside…”.

Her head shot up to him. Wide eyed she waited for an explanation. “Call it a hunch, but you didn’t seem very well with the fact of children being brought here.”. “I do not listen to a man telling me to stay out of things when he seemed ready to shed a tear in front of the building.”, she replied. Her tone was unusually harsh in comparison to before. Her arms hands dug into her upper arms. “Yes, I do not like the thought of children being transported her with their lives hanging on a thread. But just as much I do not like the thought of leaving you alone now. Something is hurting you. I do not understand what, but you are my master.”, she spoke with her voice turning softer.

“If you need someone to confide in…I am here now…You summoned me without a relic. That alone is proof that something strong allowed this meeting. There is reason for us being brought together. I will not leave your side, no matter what is behind the door.”.

A faint smile on his lips, he opened the door.

‘I hope you don’t regret it, Archer…but…’.

“Thank you…”.

The minute they stepped inside, Archer and Crio both felt it.

The cloak of death hanging in the air. Despite the window being open, letting in warm air, the surroundings felt cold, lifeless, strangling their necks.

Archer walked forward when Crio closed the door behind them…

Gazing at a bed…

…she felt her world start spinning.

Crio’s body moved on his own behind her when he heard her small shriek. Grasping her shoulders, her hood fell off.

Her ears were folded in front. Terror, edged on her face as she stared ahead, unable to pry her gaze away. A sight she despised, loathed, fought against.

Forced in front of her gaze and making her stomach twist.

“C-Crio! W-What has-?! S-She is-!!”.

It was exactly as he had feared.

Archer was horrified, body trembling as if a heavy weight was trying to pull her to her knees.

Helping her sit down on chair, he knelt beside her. A part of him wished to tell that THIS was the reason he wanted her to stay behind. But the sight of her trembling hands covering her mouth, her round eyes watering a bit with every struggled breath, he bit on his lips…

…turning his head to the very girl he had saved that day, covered in bloody bandages from operations…

…dead with a peaceful expression on her pale face.

With a heavy heart and raspy voice, he explained to his Archer what befell the girl. “She…was beaten by a few men in an alleyway. I heard it and rushed in to help her, beat them to a pulp and got her here for treatment. But…”.

As Archer was left alone to gather herself, Crio wandered towards the desk to the bed’s left with a small clipboard on it. Taking it in his hands, he gazed over the information, searching for something specific.

“…Luminita…”, he whispered. “That was your name, huh? A small light?”.

Taking deep breaths, Archer’s heart stopped racing. But in its stead, pain coursed from her core to every corner of her body. She bit her lip harshly, hunching over from the weight put on her. Squinted eyes peeked through the gaps between her fingers. ‘Why…Why is that one of the first things I have to bear witness to after I am summoned?’, she cursed with every fiber of her being. Sitting up, she watched silently how Crio’s the light from his eyes had vanished.

Much like the body of the girl, she could read no emotion as he gazed the papers over.

“…I am cursed…aren’t I?”.

It was only briefly. A faint whisper when she closed her eyes.

His voice however was too clear for her to ignore.

Cracking her eyelids open, she shuddered when his shoulders twitched. His entire body was tense, nails digging into the item in hand.

Like an active volcano his frustration boiled up.

“I just am not allowed to even save a single child, am I? Not only were your lungs pierced…but you were terminally ill as well. I thought…if I had been quicker, I could have saved you. But even if you survived those wounds…you would have died in a few days’ time in some back alley, all by yourself.”.

Gently he laid the board down, as if taking care to not wake her.

“I am being taunted left and right! I was cursed from the moment of my birth and I cannot even save a child in front of me!!”, a growl came from him that reminded her of an injured beast.

A drop.

Faintly she heard a drop fall.

She first thought it to be a tear, but upon gazing at the white tiles beneath their feet, she found it to have been a drop of blood escaping his clenched left fist.

‘…He is hurting…’.

Right in front of her, the man that summoned her in the woods grieved for a child he barely knew, jabbing his nails into his palm to keep himself under control.

She knew that feeling to well.

Helplessness when being confronted with a child you want to save, but realize that every hope came too late. He felt alone with the burden.

Archer understood the situation he was in better than anyone. She hesitated when her hand reached out to his.

‘Is…that…what bound us?’.

Her hand was hovering over his clenched left. There was still something keeping her back. Every experience she had with males.

Trickery.

Something inside her screamed that he was just tricking her.

The smile he gave her, the words they exchanged.

The respect she was given.

Torn into shreds…

…by what sounded like a soft sob.

Her hesitation shattered at the heart wrenching sound piercing her heart that came out of the scarred man’s lips.

Nobody could fake that. When your heart feels so heavy, your body so broken, that you wish to cry, but fight it with every ounce of will and with nothing to hold onto, you hurt yourself in order to not lose yourself.

It was merely seconds, but Archer felt somehow that Crio was unable to fake this emotion.

Closing her eyes the moment his free palm reached for his face, wishing to hide the sight from his new Servant…

…she wrapped her hand over Crio’s, overcoming her wariness.

He turned his head away from her, trying to hide his shock at the gentle touch. Gently she brushed over him. He barely knew her, but at this very moment, she was there for him when he felt the entire world being thrown on his shoulders, threatening to crush him. The tension in his body from the sudden touch vanished in the blink of an eye, allowing him to take in a shaky breath.

“It is fine…”.

Her voice cracked slightly as did her strength from before. “I am sure…that child is happy knowing that there was a person that cared enough to cry for her…”, she whimpered a bit…

…yet bearing a soft smile at him she couldn’t see.

“I know now what brought us together.”.

Taking a deep breath, Crio turned his head to Archer. Her hands let his go, folding over her chest. “Once we are done here, let us take a quiet place.”, she whispered, not hiding her smile, even with the few tears rolling down her cheeks as she gazed at the child. “I will tell you who I am. I need no more proof from you. You showed me here at this moment that you are a master worthy of being by my side, Crio.”.

The smile she showed him, soft, sincere, sympathetic.

“You…are my master. There is no doubt about it in my mind.”.

She understood Crio’s pain at seeing the girl’s lifeless body. In a motherly gesture, she wiped a loose brown bang away from the peaceful face.

‘…That is no act.’, Crio realized from merely observing her gentle gesture, listening to her heart wrenching sob. He realized it before already when she whispered to herself in front of the elevator. But when she curled her palm over his fist, the small touch was like a jolt that made him cringe, but opened him to release the breath of pain he held inside his chest. He thought he was able to see her heart, feel her pain merge with his. The way she wiped the strand away so softly, a touch hoping it would interrupt the girl’s rest.

‘Archer…you love children, don’t you?’.

Putting the flowers over the girl’s body, wrapping her tiny hands over it, Crio stroked the brown hair. “You can finally see your parents, again.”, he whispered in a soft, warm manner. A voice, protective like that of a father.

And in that brief moment of silence…

“Nkáia…mater pandos…chere…”.

Gaia…mother of all…I greet you…

The last words a greek would speak with their dying breaths or sending a loved one on a peaceful voyage to Elysium.

Everything that Archer needed to know was answered in that moment.

“Nkáia…mater pandos…chere…”, she repeated, her hands folded in front of her skirt.

Wide Crio’s eyes went as his heart seemed to stop.

In perfect, ancient greek the woman at his side recited the very same prayer. Gazing at her attire once more, his gaze fixated once more on her lion ears.

‘A tale…lions…’.

For that brief moment they were silent, one name brushed passed his mind. The heart in his chest began to beat again. The girl in front of him ignited a small light inside his heart as she gazed at Archer, the woman that supported him when he though he hit his lowest. ‘Archer…Are…you…’.

With the girl sent on her way to Elysium, they left her alone for her final journey.

Outside near the outskirts, Archer gazed silently at her palms.

Crio had been unnervingly silent, sitting on the bench beside her, having not said a single word. He didn’t know what to say to the woman. Barely met, yet she understood him more than anyone when his heart grew heavy.

He had seen many people die.

He had killed many.

But no matter how often he had a child in his arms that faded away, he would curse every god possible. He himself was a symbol of their ruthlessness, their blade of judgement…

…their god of chaos, that cried whenever a child was robbed of their life.

He never believed that gods had plans for mortals.

Despised priests that said they did.

But the silence was crushing Archer from the inside. After that small tender moment, that touch she gifted him, a complete stranger, she hoped to learn more, to tell him her name. But ever since then, he didn’t say a word, worrying her more and more.

Pulling out a package of cigarettes, Crio gave a small shake, pulling one out caught between his lips. Archer gazed curiously at the item, how Crio lifted his right hand.

With a snap of his finger, the same blue light she saw in her mind appeared on his thumb, a small, blue candlelight, focused and calm.

Lighting the cigarette, he puffed away, watching how the smoke lifted to the sky, just as the soul of the girl did in front of them.

Archer’s nose began to wrinkle. “That smells disgusting.”. “It tastes just as bad, Archer.”, Crio admitted, the cigarette between his fingers. “Don’t start smoking. That stuff is only breaking your body.”.

“Then why are you doing this to yourself?”.

“Stress relief.”.

A soft gasp came out of her. Silently the woman shuffled with her feet. ‘Then this isn’t the first time.’.

Noticing her growing uneasy, he chuckled a bit, gazing at the cigarette. “Well…that and it got into a bad habit because of a friend of mine…”.

_“Ah, come on, bro! It isn’t that bad.”._

_“Why do you always want to get me to smoke, Cu?”._

_“Well, at least you are not calling me Lancer anymore. I have no ulterior motives. Come, just sit down, let’s drink a bit as we fish! I heard you were a smoker, so why not enjoy it together? Makes it more fun!”._

_“And you are not just asking me because Archer and Gilgamesh have taken over your spot?”._

_“…Of course not…”._

_“Sure…asking the only guy Gilgamesh and Archer take a large turn around to smoke with you.”._

_“…Tch. Alright. It is part the reason. These two have made my heaven into a hell. But I also noticed that you smoke when you are stressed out and there is no Yakuza to punch in vicinity. Caster and Rider are worried, so I thought I should step in.”._

_“Tch…”._

_“Come. Sit down with me. Let us just enjoy the breeze a bit. Here. Take one of mine.”._

_“…*sigh* Alright, you win…?! Geez, do you really like this brand?”._

_“Ehh…”._

_“Gods, Cu. Here. That is a proper one.”._

_“Don’t mind if I do…?! Okay, that is the good stuff! And here I thought you had no taste.”._

_“Tse. Malaka. Heracles might have been born before me, but in the end, all your lives were shorter than my own. Don’t think I didn’t learn anything over the millenia.”._

Fond memories of the times on the harbor in Fuyuki.

At sunsets, him and the blue Lancer would sit around, drink something, smoke a cigarette and speak of many things.

Archer watched how he began to smile a bit ever since leaving the hospital behind, tapping the cigarette to get rid of the ash. “He got me to smoke more often whenever we were in a drinking round. Another guy would join us for a drink as well.”, he sighed, putting the cigarette between his lips once more. “But I only do that there and…when I am frustrated. I do not smoke in front of children. The last thing I want is my bad habits to transferred to them.”.

A smile spread on Archer. The more Crio began to speak and mentioned children, the more she felt herself be at ease around him.

“Say, Crio…can I ask you something?”.

“Sure. Ask away.”.

“Do you…have any particular greek legend you are very fond of?”.

Crio’s eyebrow raised a bit. The question came out of nowhere. “Why a greek legend? And do you mean any of the males or the females?”. “Anything.”, she giggled a bit. “I wouldn’t mind it being Heracles or Odysseus, maybe Achilles. You are a man after all. Though, I would like it if it was a woman.”.

Her eyes had a curious gleam that made him begin to sweat. ‘She definitely wants to hear of a woman. I think I’ll just be honest.’.

A legend he loved ever since he was a child.

Turning his head away from her to not get the smoke into her face, facing away from the crack of the rising sun, Crio allowed himself to smile. “There…was one legend.”.

“Pes mou.”, she pushed him softly to tell her with a smile.

Taking a deep breath, leaning against the backrest, his gaze wandered to the sky.

“A huntress that was much too fast to be caught by men. Arrows so precise they could pierce a rampaging boar’s hide with ease. Despite being beautiful, a body strong enough to outwrestle the father of Achilles, Peleus, with ease.”.

His eyes closed with a small sigh.

“Yet her end was so twisted. People see her story as a lesson of being smart if someone else is outperforming you physically. I see it as disrespectfulness and the suffering of a woman who only wished to hold onto her vow.”.

“Ah. I think I know the story. It is an old one, very old.”, Archer held in her laugh. “What have you read about that woman?”.

If he would gaze at her at this moment, he would grow blind. Hermes would stumble over his feet and Helios fall over his chariot, wondering if what he was dragging behind him really was the sun.

She was the other side of the coin to the dark clouds hanging over his head. “Many, many things. Either married to a man and raped in a temple and turned into a lion by gods, to the point of having been pregnant when she was racing.”, he clicked his tongue with a disgusted look. “They say she abandoned her child in the woods because she was ashamed of her oath being broken.”.

“I see. So that is what you read.”, she whispered, fighting her reflex to cringe. “I think I know who you are talking about, but could you tell me her name? I’d love to hear the name of this woman you adore so much.”.

Taking another deep breath, this time to still his beating heart in his chest, Crio pulled cigarette out of lips.

A small shooting star went past his eyes. A symbol of hope, of wishes, beautiful in a starlit night like this.

“Her name was…Atalanta…”.

Archer’s body began to tremble slightly.

But it was not out of shock. The way he spoke the name, full of affection to that woman he could not see. Holding her breath in, she asked: “Say…that affection you hold for her…is it the same as all other males?”. “What do you mean?”, he returned, watching her fidget ever so slightly.

“Wishing to marry her…lay with her…Or in other, more blunt words…just wish to see her naked in bed, like a trophy of sorts.”.

From the corner of her emerald eyes, she smiled brighter than before at an intense scowl that formed on his handsome face. The scars made him look even more terrifying. “Straight to the point, huh? I wonder what your motivation here is.”.

“Who knows. You just got me curious how men in this time think.”.

Crio’s eyebrow rose a bit. With a shake of his head, he returned to her question. “No. I would never force her into anything like those bastards wanted to. A man should not desire a woman to simple lay in bed with her.”, Crio grumbled, keeping his anger in check. “They should love the woman for who she is on the inside. I do not know what Atalanta looked like. Maybe I would have been enraptured by her wild beauty as well. But even then, pressing her for a marriage with me would be wrong. Even in the off chance she had an interest in me, if she wished to keep her vow, then I would have supported to her, yet still stayed by her side. That would be enough for me.”.

Archer swallowed a bit, watching him tilt his head tiredly away from her again.

“…Not that this abomination here could hope to marry a woman any way…”.

Just for a brief second, her smile seemed to fade from existence. Everything he said before made the heart beating inside of her chest get faster and faster.

A feeling she never felt in her short life.

And then came that word that could describe beasts like the gruesome Hydra.

“…Abomination…?”.

“Yes, I am an abomination…”, Crio whispered exhausted. Archer realized that this was not physical exhaustion.

It was mental. In his spirit, he yearned to rest.

Crio was tired…tired of many things.

Putting out the cigarette, he rid the rest of it in the trash bin next to them. His right arm resting on his knee, his upper body slouched forward a bit, Crio pulled the sleeve of his left arm up.

More than before, she could now see how many scars ran all across his body. Some looked like a web, a proof of his history of battle through time…

…while some looked more like he was tortured.

“I have seen more than any Servant could hope to. I do not know how to properly love or anything. I never had a woman at my side I could go home to, much less one I could tolerate. Women today, at least most I met, come to you because of your money, your status or your looks. And as soon as they would I hear that I am an assassin, they would run away screaming anyway.”.

She didn’t like the tone he was talking to about himself. There was nothing that made it sound like he was trying to impress her or anything. Crio was thoroughly disgusted at the sight of his lower arm and ever bit of skin reminded him of the blood clinging to him.

“How about you leave the part about you being an ‘abomination’ to a woman to judge?”.

Turning his head to his left, he found Archer smiling at him. As the wind began to pick up, gently brushing over her cheek, she brushed a bit of hair back, gazing at the sky.

His heart skipped a beat as he was drawn into the beauty of the adult woman at his side.

She was gorgeous from head to toe him. He preferred it more when women wouldn’t hide themselves beneath lipstick and masks.

And Archer showed her natural beauty well, drawing him into her eyes every single time.

Those beautiful emeralds that warmed him up.

“As a woman myself, I have can safely say that you are no abomination.”, Archer whispered, tone lofty. Raising from her seat, letting Crio’s coat slide of her shoulders, she presented herself as the first rays shot up from the horizon. “These scars tell a story: The story of a kind man, rough on the outside, yet with a heart of gold beneath shining brighter than the sun. There is no way anyone would start breaking like this in front of a child if they were unable to feel kindness and love for them.”.

For some reason, the presence made him immediately sit up straight. It was as if he was controlled by strings. Gently she grasped his left wrist, pulling the curious man from the bench.

“Since we are still outside…”.

Since he was a bit taller than her, Archer pulled his head down to her. Her breath stroking his skin made him shudder a bit. Warm and gentle, something he rarely felt. And most of the time, the only women that got this close to him were either Medea or Medusa, just to get him embarrassed.

But with Archer, that feeling was not the same. His heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Archer smiled, noticing how much her presence made him feel uncomfortable, to have the presence of a woman so close.

And how she would have loved to see the look on his face.

His eyes widened as she whispered her name.

“…My true name…”.

Crio’s adam apple moved, attempting his best to swallow the shock. Completely breathless he listened…

…a name he wanted to hear for so long.

“…Atalanta…”.

The night was over.

The girl he saved was gone, up to the heavens to find her parents. In that cloak of darkness, when he felt himself alone grieving for the dead child, he found a comforting hand close to his.

That faded life gave him a gift he could never have imagined.

“I am the huntress you adore so much, Crio…I can assure you, you are not dreaming…”.

The name of the woman Medea mentioned so often, the sister she wanted to see again so much, was whispered into his ears as the sun began its ascent to heaven.

Pulling away from his ear, Atalanta found joy in Crio’s wide eyes. His lips lifted a bit, voicing a silent ‘how’.

How as it possible that his dream Servant was right in front of him?

How was the woman he wished to meet so badly there whispering her name into his ear?

His answer came with her right-hand brushing over his chest, right over his heart as she softly gazed down on her left laying flat over her chest.

“This…right here… is what bound us.”, she explained. Her voice was a sunray amidst the fog that surrounded him, luring his gaze down to his chest. “You are not cursed, Crio. And a desire to save children…that is not something an abomination would even dare think. You made me feel things I never fought I could feel for a man. Companionship. There was only one man that I felt safe around and that was Peleus. He was a gentleman: Respectful and kind. And…I see such qualities and more inside of you. True love of a father to a child that lost her parents.”.

Removing her right palm, she crossed both of her hands over her slim chest. Just for a second, she seemed to choke.

The grail was supposed to stop any memories before the Servant was summoned, but there was one that was screaming inside her mind at this very moment.

_“Lady Artemis…can I…receive a master who understands me?”._

The last words she spoke were gifted in the form of the startled man in front of her.

Taking a deep breath, she gazed up into his blue eyes. She waited patiently, waiting for him to start speaking again. A hand over his muzzle, he gazed away for a bit. Shock sat deep inside of him. His heart was pounding in his ears.

‘Atalanta…That is Atalanta in front of me!’.

Over and over he heard his own voice speak inside his mind.

The woman he found so enthralling was the very huntress Medea told him so often about.

The woman he wanted to meet.

He still felt how her hand had brushed over his heart, touching his core deeper than he could have ever imagined anyone to do.

“Crio…are you…happy to see me?”.

Her attempt to sound witty sounded more like she was hoping. He inhaled as deeply as possible…

…and returned with the brightest grin he could. After all, it was a dream come true to him.

“Happy…is not how I would describe it! Quite honestly, I cannot even form words in my mind about all those things I want to say to you but...”, he nervously chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. Speaking to her now took a lot more effort. His mind was rattling what to say, how to say. 

“But…yes…I am…really happy that you are here in front of me…That you are my Archer…”.

Her eyelashes fluttered a bit, feeling her eyes grow a bit wet.

In all honesty, Crio opened his heart a bit to someone he just barely met.

“So…you do not desire another Servant?”.

“No way. I spoke minutes before you arrived how I wished for the Servant to meet to be you and…”, she listened to him admit, this time not hiding a slight blush. “Here you are…speaking to me as if I was your friend...I…never imagined for you and me to be able to converse like this…”. “It is real, Crio. Like I said, you are not dreaming…”, her warm voice reassured him once more.

When the sun fully greeted Sighisoara…

Crio’s soft expression hardened the very same moment Atalanta’s did.

“There is someone we need to meet before we can continue.”. “That priest and Assassin, right?”, Atalanta guessed. Crio’s attentive eyes followed her all they with a nod. “Then let us get this over with quickly, Crio, and then get some rest. I know that you are exhausted.”. “More than you would think…”, he chuckled slightly.

There was a torrent of feelings in his chest he could hope to explain.

Picking up his coat, she noticed something nearly slide out of his chest pocket. “Hm? What is this, Crio?”, she wondered at the royal blue box. His whole body shot forth, quickly snatching the box before she could gaze inside, hiding it again in his chest pocket. “A promise to someone…I’ll…tell you about that another time…”, Crio quickly brushed off, courteously helping her into coat. Sighing a bit in relief, he thought to himself. ‘I cannot tell her about Medea just yet. I will keep that for another day.’.

Though his sigh did not go unnoticed. Partly because his breath brushed over her lion ears and made her shudder a bit. ‘Hmm…I’ll have to keep that box in mind. I wonder what you are hiding.’.

Silently the pair walked towards the church, both with confident smiles on their lips.

Unseen with the naked eye, one would think that there was a threat connecting them, every step in unison at the same pace.

Crio found his Servant in Atalanta, and she a proper master in him.

A parting gift by the girl he saved, he was able to unlock Atalanta’s heart a bit and for that, Crio was eternally grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Atalanta is a difficult woman. Getting her to trust you is no easy feat, especially as a man. The chemistry has to be pretty much perfect.
> 
> You need to like children. You need to protective of them. You need to agree with her vow of virginty and you need to be respectful to her.
> 
> If you flirt at the very second with someone like her, make a move on her, you have screwed up big time. Anyone who knows her tale and and how she is in Fate knows that those guys have no chance with her, barely even getting word out of her.
> 
> Those who have read some of my one-shots know already that Crio and Atalanta have a very close bond.
> 
> And that right here is the reason.
> 
> In the next part, we'll be exploring a few more people ;)


	7. The Servants of Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the moonlight he had summoned her. The Archer he wished for, the huntress he yearned to meet.  
> In that same night, she had grown closer to him swifter than with any other person before, having found what connected them to another.
> 
> What string of fate thought was enough to allow this meeting.
> 
> Headed to the church to discuss the approach against the Blacks, more people waited to be met.  
> A fierce queen followed by a warrior...

Barely at the front gate of the church, Crio felt to overwhelming urge to vomit.

Annoyance was still very lightly put to describe the grimace crawling on his face. ‘Again do I have to endure that smile of his. Kotomine…I have the feeling every person with that family name is up to no good.’. Grasping the bar, he began to push the gate open before Atalanta grabbed his wrist. “What is it?”, he asked, keeping his voice as low as possible.

Her instincts are sharp. Years of living by herself in the forests of the natural paradise of Arcadia have blessed the huntress with many gifts. In that regard, trusting her when she sensed something was off was one of the smartest and most logical choices to him.

Keeping her stoic scowl, her ears moved underneath the hood of Crio’s coat, attempting to listen to any voices.

Tension. The feeling of many eyes all around them.

As if a snake was hiding just beneath her feet, ready to sink her fangs into her ankle.

“Crio, this entire area…I think they created some sort of barrier here.”.

Nothing short of impressed, he nodded. Crio had already expected her instincts to be sharp as a knife. She was no Caster, yet could feel that something very wrong here, just as he did before. “They have erected some sort of barrier here.”, Crio began to explain, pushing the gate open and letting Atalanta enter first. A smile briefly flashed on her lips at the courtesy. “When I came here before, the first step in I felt watched. You will see as soon as you meet them.”. “Considering that, I wonder why you don’t tell me to go into my spirit form. Even around town you never told me to vanish.”, she questioned about not receiving the obvious order. A Servant has trouble walking in broad daylight without the proper clothes. Atalanta in particular was one such sort, not because of her dress as much as her animal traits.

Her adorably twitching ears when she was surprised at something or her elegantly swaying tail when she was walked.

People would probably expect that she was cosplaying, Servants and Masters knowing she was the enemy. Crio himself was less than surprised, having had to meet people with feline features before…

…to a better or worse extent.

Instead, he gave her his coat to allow her to walk beside him. Confused he mumbled a bit: “If you want to, you can disappear if you want. I don’t mind. Though it would feel strange to converse with the air.”. There was still a lot to be learned for him. Giggling softly, Atalanta knew that she’d have to teach him the ropes of a master. “Ah! Communication is the least of our problems, Crio. But I understand. It look like I have to teach you a few things about being a master.”.

“How about we get this done first and then take time to know each other better? We still have to find accommodation after all.”.

“Agreed. Let’s get this over with.”.

…

Silence inside the holy halls of the church.

The kind of silence you expect when you are waiting for someone’s hand to reach out of the shadows. To pull you away from the light and hide your corpse in the corner with only your hand to be seen.

Had he not been the one to do such assassinations often enough, Crio would show more awareness than he did right now. Callously gazing around, Atalanta close at his side, his stomach began to twist again in front of the statue of an angel.

Such a magnificent being. A symbol of purity and guidance.

Those beautiful wings spanned open over a man and a woman.

Having heard the doors close, the priest’s attention turned towards the Master and Servant, together with Assassin at his side.

“Ah. Welcome back, Crio.”, he greeted them. Assassin’s lips curled into a vicious smile the moment her golden eyes clashed with Atalanta’s own. From head to toe she gazed the woman over. ‘She is trying to find out who I am.’, Atalanta noticed immediately. But covering her body was of no use. Nose high with arrogance befitting a queen, Assassin laughed softly behind the back of her hand. “Looks like you bet on the right one, Master. Not only an Archer, but also a Grecian. What a coincidence.”.

Atalanta clenched her teeth the very first second her origin came into play. Merely seconds in and her identity was put open.

“The huntress of Arcadia…Atalanta…Our Archer of Red is Atalanta.”.

Atalanta’s hand twitched behind her back, ready to pull her weapon into the crack of rainbow-colored light of the stained glass. It took Assassin barely a second and she figured out who the Archer was. Danger was hanging in the air, the ceiling seemingly beginning to fall.

Merely a step forth…

…and Crio’s arm shot between them, interrupting the chain of glares.

A shiver, a cold shower ran down her back. His warm eyes the color of the ocean, before so happy to see her, had turned into something dreadful.

Sharp.

His pupils looked like knives, no. To her, they looked like the ones of a snake, slits that focused on prey.

Losing the tension in her body, Atalanta straightened herself with a nod for Crio to take over. Talking respectfully was never one of her strong points.

Shirou and the Assassin were nothing short of surprised as they saw Crio step in front of his Servant. They knew that he was no normal human, but the sight of him stepping in front of a Servant to protect her seemed foolish. Atalanta merely scoffed at the looks they shot, softly closing her eyes with arms crossed over her chest. She had seen that Crio hid something dreadful inside his very core.

The fire that exploded into an inferno.

‘Crio…can you hear my voice?’.

There was not even a crack in the mask that Crio had put on. Hiding his shock was one of the easiest parts about his job. ‘I can. I see. That is what you meant with communication being the least of our problems.’. ‘Exactly. We can converse telepathically without a problem.’, she briefly explained. ‘Crio, there are not only these two here, but I can feel several mana sources nearby.’.

Focusing his own senses, he began to feel out the area.

Flames.

He could see them in front of his inner eyes.

Aura, mana, Chi. Many names, same meaning.

Lifeforce.

Humans mostly were shown as small candle lights, barely noticeable. The purest were a pristine white, most others a light blue. And the vilest of them all…

…a dark violet. Poisonous to their surroundings. Discolored by sins they committed with smiles on their faces.

The ones he found here were mostly human.

Outside he could feel Servants.

Servants were a very special case as mana was essential to them. There entire bodies would be shown like a flaming silhouette.

There were four of them, yet too far away to be clearly seen.

‘I see them. For now, let us stay out of their way. We have enough distance to them already, so let us concentrate on what they want to say to us.’, Crio decided, getting a silent confirmation from her. “I would ask how you found out about Archer’s identity if not for the fact that you are a Servant yourself. Can I assume that is one of your inherited skills?”, he assumed, keeping face and voice as callous as possible. Shirou seemed more on edge than the Assassin at his side was, lifting a hand in capitulation. “Wait, please. We are not your enemies, remember?”. “Then Assassin shouldn’t try snooping around other people’s secrets if she doesn’t want to lose her head.”.

Ocean blue clashed with sinister gold. Softly those lips of hers turned into the most vicious smile.

“Oh? Aren’t you confident? You say you can best a Servant? You should be careful or Atalanta is going to lose her own fairly early.”.

“Hmpf. I highly doubt that. People with egos such as yours I eat for breakfast. Assassin or not, pride comes before the fall.”.

Unsatisfied with the confidence, Assassin grew quiet. Not only because Crio clearly had no respect for her in front of her master, but the very air around them began to feel charged. She glanced at the nervous Shirou, shaking his head, clearly telling with his eyes to not get on his bad side. For a small second, she turned her glare back to Crio…

…being faced with a rain of emerald arrows.

Atalanta was glaring at her from beyond Crio’s shoulder. A silent warning that the next step would be her last and she felt every single one dig into her body.

Feeling tired of being on the hotspot, Assassin turned her head away, crossing her arms. In irritation she tapped on her upper arm. But her master was clearly thankful for stepping down.

Turning his head around to his Archer, Crio gave an amused smile. Enjoying the sight of Crio’s smile, Atalanta winked playfully at him.

“Okay. Returning on topic; I am glad you found such a reliable Servant in Archer.”, Shirou returned, lightly pulling on the collar of his jacket. His throat still felt hoarse from the faded tension. But still, every word must be chosen carefully now.

The Servants are already at the other’s throat.

Crio was on guard as well.

Silently they stood in front of the statue…

Crio and Atalanta to one, Shirou and Assassin to the other.

Again the air felt charged.

“Are you just going to let me and Archer stand here and silently admire the statue or are you actually going to tell us what your plan is for now?”, Crio sighed. His hands in his pockets, he glanced as his words seemed to have snapped the priest out of his trance. “Right, right. Apologies. Our plan is a united front against the black faction, though at this point we barely have any knowledge about their capabilities.”, Shirou returned.

Uncharacteristically serious, a sight rare on his face according to Assassin’s slight surprise, Crio crossed his arms. “Is that so?”.

“Unfortunately, yes. Yesterday, Saber and her master were ambushed at night around 1 a.m. by the Blacks utilizing Golems and probably Homunculi. They were not much trouble for them, though that was only a taste of what is to come.”.

Homunculi…

Experimental humans born in a test tube.

In normal cases, they were nothing more than that, lacking of heart and soul. A flesh doll, as Gilgamesh would put it bluntly and without regard, having seen nothing more than an item when he first met Illya.

Memories returned of the time after Heracles was gone. Despite having been so ruthless, Illya had been crying at some points at night after her Berserker was gone.

And he was thankful that he was returned to her along with the other participants of the fifth holy grail war. Only shortly afterward Crio had learned that she was not created in a traditional manner.

She was born as a normal child.

A seed that began to sprout through love of a woman and a man.

Kiritsugu Emiya and the homunculus Irisviel von Einzbern.

But these ones were probably only created as disposable pawns.

Feeling the memories overwhelm him, Crio took a small breather to calm himself. Aside from Medea, Souichirou and Medusa, non knew that he went to Romania. “I see. With a Saber at his side, his master was safe. They belong to one of the knight classes for a reason.”.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’.

The very first false step Crio took and he had to, metaphorically, step on her tail. A soft brush seemed to go over the back of his left hand and he knew that was Atalanta’s tail swinging left and right like a pendulum, clearly sending him a silent message. Glancing at him, swift and sharply, she asked. ‘Do you think I cannot protect you? I might be an Archer and our strengths do lie in us fighting from distance, but-‘. ‘Easy, Atalanta. I never doubted your prowess from the beginning. I feel safer with you around me.’, he cut her off, calm and collected despite the shudder he felt when the tip of her tail brushed his skin. Her gaze fixated forward, the swaying growing less and less. ‘Really?’.

He could only answer her doubts with a smile. The huntress that was so distant the first seconds seemed so far gone already. ‘Really. But let us talk about that when we are alone.’.

Catching a glimpse of a smile, the drumming of his heart grew louder and louder in his chest. It was small, barely noticeable, but among a startlit night, it would shine brighter than even suns that were so far away.

‘…Cute…’.

That was all Crio mindlessly blurted to himself. Thankfully, without letting Atalanta hear it. The last thing he wanted to do is to give Atalanta a wrong impression about him.

It was a wonder a woman such as her who distanced herself from males to be so open to him. A chance of a lifetime, like meeting a rare animal in the wild and instead of it running away or lunging at you, it approaches you with soft paws, leaning against your palm for a quick sniff.

“So, Saber and her master. Who are they?”, Crio returned to topic at hand, trying his best to wipe away the beautiful painting that was a smiling Atalanta.

A fruitless battle, mind you. He had to exercise multitasking now.

“You’ll notice him almost immediately. His name is Kairi Shishigou. A man about your size, rough appearance, sunglasses, tan skin and long brown hair, sort of like a lion’s mane. Likes to smoke.”, came the answer about the master. Crio immediately memorized the name and looks, but he waited for Saber’s identity. From the sidelines, Atalanta shot Assassin a look. She should finally spill it. Her nervous tapping got more frantic and swifter as the wind, she shot her gaze into another direction. “I couldn’t identify him. He was able to conceal it.”, she began to pout. Not being able to find out the Servant’s true identity seemed have left a bitter aftertaste. Suspicious of the Saber, Crio shot Atalanta a look she agreed to with a small nod.

They would keep these two memorized.

Kairi Shishigou, master of the Saber of Red.

Whoever that Saber was, could potentially become something seriously nasty.

“Well, that is currently how it is.”, Shirou sighed. Saber didn’t go with their plans. Instead he turned his attention to Crio with a risen eyebrow. “Now that I think about it, it is strange that you didn’t meet the two last night. There was quite a bit of ruckus.”.

“I was hindered.”.

The answer came like bullet that pierced the questioner with the message ‘Do not ask any further’.

That message was only enforced from the green glare of the huntress, very, very clearly reflected in her emerald eyes. She noticed how his jaws moved, knowing that Crio was clenching his teeth to keep himself in check from punching rearranging the priest’s face.

He still didn’t completely stomach the death of the orphan.

But here in the presence of priest and Assassin, she didn’t know how to behave, only giving the others a crystal-clear memo to let the topic rest. Shirou’s gaze seemed to grow the slightest bit softer, even the one of Assassin from curiosity. “Anyway, you should meet the other masters and Servants. We have accommodation for you and Archer-“.

At that very second, Atalanta interrupted Crio’s attention. ‘Do not give them the benefit of your trust.’, she spoke of experience. ‘People like him, faking innocence, are just waiting to poison us when our back is turned.’. ‘Agreed.’, Crio responded sharply. ‘I have met my fair share of priests. Some would think salvation to be ridding people of emotions, creating demons to further their goals.’.

“Sorry, Shirou. I need to interrupt you right there.”.

Sporting a nervous smile, Crio explained. “I… do not work well in groups, so I don’t think introducing me to the other masters will do you any good. That and I prefer sleeping outside in nature. I think it is for the best if me and Archer stay alone.”. As Shirou blankly stared, as if something shattered inside of him, Crio had to listen to Atalanta hold in a snark. ‘Kitaxe to fatsa (Look at his face)! Did you just pull that out of your sleeves to get on my good side?’. ‘As I said, let us keep this for later.’, he quickly cut her off before he would lose his pokerface.

The priest’s face was barely unchanged to the naked eye.

For the two however, they could clearly see that he was not the least bit satisfied. Atalanta and Crio were not working with whatever plan they had. At the receiving end of the denial, Shirou seemed slightly displeased, but shrugged it off with a sigh. “Alright. If that is what you wish. Then, how can I reach you?”.

The exchange of phone numbers was over swift and thankfully the two turned to leave.

_“Stop following me around, Rider…”._

_“Is it that bad? I just like being around you and want to see you safe.”._

_“Being forced to see your face every single day is more than enough to make me vomit, and I like to digest my food instead of removing it.”._

_“Look, P-“._

_“Do.not.say.my.name! You have nothing, no privilege, that allows your lips that dishonored me during my last moments to ever mention my name! Stay silent and far away from me, for the last time!”._

_“*Sigh* Really, Berserker. We are allies in this and…”._

_“There is nothing that could make me entrust my back to you, Rider. Being forced to not tear your head off is already bad enough.”._

_“You can trust me, I swear! I told you that I’d-“._

_“Enough!”._

Utter silence.

The voice of a young woman. While youthful, full of experience. Speaking of a privilege reminded Crio of more of royalty than anything.

The man that seemed to follow her sounded fairly young himself barely an adult. A bit overconfident in his abilities, somehow though giving of the feeling of a child.

The door flung open…

Enraged a petite, white haired woman entered. Her eyes were a burning orange, scorching the earth with every step her battle boots took. Clawed gauntlets were on her arms and two spatha either side of her waist, adorned by a coat as red as blood with white fluff on it. Her attire overall was light, allowing for swift, agile movements.

And her eyes…

Crio scowled the moment he looked at them. Those were the eyes of someone who loved to battle, whose very life was dedicated to shedding blood.

Strolling behind her was a young man. His hair was spiked up in a rebellious manner, shaven short at the sides. His features were sharp, eyes a piercing yellow. Aside from shoulder and chest plate, he did not wear much armor, aside from an orange scarf waving behind him.

His arms were crossed, the sharp eyes currently seeming more discouraged than his voice sounded before.

Atalanta didn’t know where, but she thought of having seen the color of his eyes before.

The two newcomers stopped the play of cat and mouse, gazing at Crio and Atalanta. “Priest, who are these two?”, the woman with the silver hair asked, tone rough and distanced. Gesturing to them, ignoring Crio’s glare down at the woman who shared his hair color, the priest began the introduction.

Barely seconds in and he already disliked her.

“That is Crio. He is our final master. And that is his Archer-Servant, Atalanta.”.

“Atalanta?!”.

The male’s surprised voice caught the pair off-guard. Leaning forward a bit, a warrior’s gaze mustered her.

The second he raised an eyebrow, Atalanta felt as if she was struck by lightning.

“Are you the Atalanta my old man talked about?”.

“Wait…you are…Peleus’ son?”.

Crio’s own eyebrow rose. “Peleus’ son?”, he muttered under his breath. Silently he gazed at the warrior across from him beginning to smile over both ends, reminding him of an excited child. “I can’t believe I ever get to meet you! Chere! My father spoke often about you.”.

Atalanta couldn’t help herself, smiling fondly at the memories of the Argo. Not only that, but at that moment, the Rider beamed like a child, striking at her heart. “I see. Yes, I remember your father. Now that I see it clearly, you got your father’s eyes. We shared tales and time together. And he fought well in the wrestling match against me. It was a good fight.”.

For some reason the Rider tried to hide something behind the nervous twitching around the corner of his lips. “Uh…Y-Yeah…Father said that it was a…good match…Hm?”, his voice grew quieter as his attention wandered to her white-maned master. “Oh, don’t mind me. I am just observing.”, Crio brushed off.

“You are her master?”.

“…That is what the priest, said, yes?”.

“Huh! You have no idea how lucky you are to have sis as your Servant.”.

Crio and Atalanta comically tilted their head in unison, crossing their arms with a confused ‘Huh’.

Something that seemed to further the grin on the Rider’s face. “Not only that. Thinking with whom you are surrounded with, it is funny. You look like the greek flag incarnate.”. “I hear that a lot. Aside from that.”. Immediately Crio switched his attention to his Archer. “Atalanta, do you know him?”, Crio asked. The way the Rider spoke to him, prideful and leisurely, reminded him a bit too much about a certain blue-haired Lancer at home.

Though his question came to her like a bolt of lightning. For a second, she seemed a bit surprised. Not only her, but pretty much every single one in the room.

She just gave Crio the biggest possible hint who the Rider of Red was.

“Uhh…Perimine.", she asked him to wait a second to process. "Crio, you…said you read my story, right?”.

“Yes, I did.”.

Completely confused, Atalanta questioned him again. “You know about Peleus, right?”. They had just spoken about him a few hours ago and Crio definitely knows who the guy across from him is.

“Eh, scarcely. Truth is, I knew more when I was a child. But he never seemed that special compared to Heracles, Asclepius or you.”.

“Charming, Master. I appreciate the compliment.”.

Crio needed a moment to reevaluate his words and when he realized what he said, considering who he was standing beside with, Atalanta shivered when he smacked his palm against his face, silently cursing himself for blurting out. “… _Skata_. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“.

“Oh, wipe that thought away! I know you didn’t try to flirt with me!”.

“He didn’t?”, the Rider muttered absent minded. “I was sure that was a sign of his endearment to you, sis. Father told me that you had a lot of admirers whom you sent to Hades.”. “I wasn’t asking you, Rider. You are making things awkward.”, she swiftly cut him off, her tongue a sharpened sword that slid down his back.

Silently he switched the gazes between the Archer and Master. The smirk that came on his face, as if he seemed to know what was going on, was only more aggravating with his playful tune. “Ah, I see. Looks like my old man’s memory wasn’t that good. _Sighnomi_. I won’t say another word.”, he apologized, taking a step back.

Atalanta and Crio would need a few days to decipher what he meant.

With a shake of her head, attention returned completely to Crio. “Really, it is sweet that you think so highly of me. But back on topic, there is one thing Peleus is actually quite famous for.”. Now she got Crio’s full attention. “I am all ears.”. Silently she pointed at the man crossing his arms with a proud smile. Stroking his chin, Crio tried his best to decipher her hint.

‘Peleus…Peleus…Something Peleus was famous for…’.

Berserker seemed to enjoy herself when Crio could not find out who Rider, straining himself more and more. Exhaustion slowly started to cloud his mind. Neither her, nor Assassin openly snickering behind her palm.

And when the first drop of sweat formed on his temple, Rider felt his former life to haven been thrown away. “Oh, come on. You are messing with me, bro! You are greek and you do not know of me? No! You are messing with me!”. “Firstly, I am not your bro, so don’t call me that.”, Crio’s sharp tongue cut him off. Bro was a title only Cu used when they were at the harbor, taking a smoke or just drinking a beer, enjoying the sea breeze. And now this guy in front of him just spouted that without even knowing who he is.

“Include calling me sis as well. My name is Atalanta. Write that behind your ears, youngster.”.

Crio sighed after Atalanta cut into his word and the Rider ruffled his green hair. “It is just my sign of endearment to you two. My role model and the master who was able to summon her. I heard that it was out of pure compatibility, so being able to summon her is very impressive.”, he muttered with a click of his tongue. “Really, don’t think too much into it. I just like the both of you. But come on! You must have heard at the very least my name! You cannot NOT know my name, bro!”.

Crio's upper lip started twitching the more his patience left him. “Look, I didn’t come here for a guessing game! If you start whining about me not knowing your name, I have more important things to take care o-“.

“Crio, you know him.”.

Putting his Jacket down on one of the benches, Atalanta smiled how Crio gave her a look of impatience. His finger was drumming on his upper arm. “ I mentioned him before and you did as well. I blame it on your exhaustion for now. Shall I give you a hint?”. “Please, by all means.”, he asked, having no clue who the Rider was with the other male begging. “Please give him a hint. It cannot be that a greek doesn’t know who I am!”.

“Oh, I’ll give him a hint alright…”, she whispered with the most amused expression she bore since she was summoned.

Somehow Atalanta's dark tone made the Rider grow paler.

Folding her hands in front of her, she allowed herself a joke at the Rider’s cost.

Lifting her heel as if she just got a pair of new shoes, she turned it to Crio, pointing down to it. Half open he gazed down, rubbing his muzzle. Problem was, her gesture was rather cute to him and for a second, Crio was more enthralled by her beauty before forcing himself to concentrate on her cute gesture.

That was putting salt into an open wound into the pride of the Rider.

‘She is showing me her heel…Heel…’.

The way his eyes grew rounder as he realized who the man was, remembering their discussion before, felt like a waterfall raining down on the Rider. “...Ohhhhhh…shit. How did I forget?”, Crio muttered, rubbing his tired eyes.

And that was the sound of someone feeling in disbelief of not getting the hint. Not only was it painfully obvious, but instead of at least getting an impressed look, the Rider was faced with…

…disappointment.

Pure and utter disappointment, showering him like a hail of arrows. “And here I had the smallest glimmer of hope that Achilles was not a scatterbrain…”, the words practically flew out of Crio. There was nothing that stabbed into the Rider of Red worse than having his identity realized and not being found with adoration or at least impressed to have one of the most well-known heroes right in front of his nose. Paris' arrow was nothing to that.

Achilles, hero of the trojan war and the one who’s name would be engraved upon a tendon in your heel, a sign of your biggest weakness.

It hurt even worse than ever, because the white-maned lion across from him was greek as well.

While both Archer and Berserker turned around to keep in their laughter at Crio’s deadpanned expression, Achilles felt his chest stabbed by a spear. “Yes…the guy who got shot in his heel by that bastard Paris…Am I such a disappointment to you?”. “I am more disappointed in myself forgetting whom Peleus’ son was. Huh, the invincible Achilles as the Rider of Red. You do seem a bit absentminded.”.

“I am not!”.

“Say that again without your cheeks heating up.”, Crio taunted with a shit eating grin. He enjoyed seeing the Rider get flustered. “Geez…Sis, did you have to give THAT hint?!”. “The most obvious is the clearest and quickest. From what I get, your tale was not really interesting to my master. Also, see that as a warning for calling me sis again. Unless I allow you, you will not use that nickname or call my master ‘bro’.”, Atalanta clearly warned. Son of Peleus or not, she was not his mother or his big sister. Clapping his hands, Crio got all their attention back. “Okay, enough! We are derailing here!”, Crio returned. While he enjoyed Atalanta getting a good laugh, he was slowly losing his patience. That was too much and his nerves were already very strained. “Geez…Medusa wasn’t like that when I found out who she was. Though, she admitted that to me herself.”.

While most didn’t hear his mumble, unable to decipher it, a shiver went down Atalanta’s spine. She heard the tales spun through time. ‘Medusa?! Did he just say who I think I heard?!’, she hoped to have heard wrong.

Greece’s grotesque abomination.

A monster with the body of a woman and hairs made out of countless snakes, hissing and baring their fangs at you. The terror that would turn you into stone in a mere glimpse.

Frozen in shock, she watched Crio turn his gaze down to the white-haired female. The grin she had before had disappeared.

Unlike Rider, she began to gaze Crio over completely, stopping at each and every scar that was available to the eye. “Hmm…You seem to know battle well.”, she realized fairly easily, gathering only a cold response at her sight. “I do, more than for several lifetimes. Who are you?”.

It was almost unnoticeable. Crio however saw how Achilles shuddered briefly.

“You already showed you had no interest in Achilles’ legend. So, I guess you will not remember my own name. But pray tell…Have you ever read it from start to finish?”, she asked him, fishing for information. Nodding slowly, he answered truthfully: “Once. I read the Illiad and, let us say, he did not make a really favorable impression on me. Though, why ask?”.

“Do you remember the name of the woman he slayed?”.

Pursed lips lifted slightly. The Rider took a deep, silent breath.

Atalanta realized immediately who she was. More so, she looked at the Rider briefly who turned his head away with closed eyes. He behaved like a child that knew it did something wrong, but did not like thinking about it. Atalanta turned her eyes up towards Crio, waiting for his own reaction.

Without emotion, calm as water, he answered without a second thought, swifter and without the playfulness he teased the Rider with before.

“I see…The queen of the Amazons, Penthesilea…”.

She nodded, crossing her arms. “ _Sostós_. I am queen Penthesilea.”, she replied with pride swelling in her chest that the man across from her got her name without a second to waste…

…and rage burning in her eyes digging through the back of Achilles’ neck. “The woman this bastard dishonored during her last breath.”.

The tale was widely known.

The battle was fierce and, in some stories, he nearly lost the battle against Penthesilea, was even revived after being killed. In the end, he won, removing her helmet.

Soft, silky white strands of hair would fall over her shoulders.

Her eyes, suns that were fiercely burning, began to die.

Unable to respond, choking on his breath, his hand caressed her cheek…

…just as she left the world.

The proud warrior queen, Penthesilea. The one person who nearly killed the myrmidon. Thrown into the raging rivers after killing a soldier that cut her eyes out, Achilles jumped in after her, retrieving her corpse, his tears merged with the water and being carried out into the sea.

And her she was, right in front of Crio’s eyes.

Her beauty was true to the tale. She was petite. On her belly the fruit of her intense training was seen in the form of her abs, subtly pronounced. Her eyes alone could burn an entire forest to ashes. Her hair was held open and long in all its glory.

But beauty aside, Crio felt in front if him not only a queen, but a beast hidden in an astonishing woman’s frame that would dig its fangs into your neck the moment you aggravated her.

His attention shifted slowly to the Rider stubbornly standing at her side despite the warnings.

Many things seemed to swirl inside the Rider’s chest. Barely Crio and Atalanta saw it in his half open eyes. At the moment, it was unable to be read completely, but there were doubts and troubles. He could not look Penthesilea into the eye at this very moment.

Taking a deep breath, Crio shook his head. ‘Atalanta as my Archer, Achilles as Rider and Penthesilea as Berserker. This cannot end well.’, he thought, starting to ponder. ‘Achilles had definitely gotten on her bad side at the end of the trojan war. But I am not going to ask about that topic right here and now. The situation is tense enough as it is.’. “Alright, if that is everything…”, Crio removed his hand with a small wave, heading for the door with Atalanta following every step. “We will contact you about our next move.”. “Huh? Wait, they are not staying here with the other masters?”, Achilles asked, his arms crossed behind his head. But while he dug around why Crio and Atalanta didn’t stay with them.

“Crio, correct? Did you get that name from your white mane the color of my own…or is it a nickname you received on the battlefield?”.

Penthesilea’s question was fiercely met with Atalanta’s glare before Crio could even form words in his mouth.

Atalanta snapped her head around swifter than an arrow flying through the air. “What do you want, Penthesilea?”. “This a question to your master.”, she explained her wish to speak to the master, not the Servant. Though Atalanta didn’t like the haughty tone of her. “He does not have to answer to you. Let us leave, Crio.”. “It’s okay, Atalanta.”. Her eyes told him clear enough that she did not desire to stay here any longer. Penthesilea was stopping them for a reason they could not comprehend right now and the fact that she wanted to ask Crio exclusively made Atalanta sour. With a callous wave of her hand, she allowed her master to answer. “Many reasons. But it doesn’t concern you, does it? Is that all, Berserker?”.

He was not even referring to her by name. Neither herself nor Achilles, only calling them by their classes. Crio wanted to keep a healthy distance for now.

The Rider was far too lenient.

The Berserker seeming uncontrollable, yet not mindless.

And considering that he was following her before, it was a mixture that was ready to explode.

“It is impressive that you were able to summon someone like the Chaste Huntress through compatibility alone. But I want to pose a question onto you.”.

“…Shoot.”, he answered her without taking a second glance behind him.

But Atalanta did, feeling a sheer cold going down her body at the slight smirk upon the white-haired woman’s lips.

“Had you been the one to kill me…would you have called me beautiful at the end? Would you have said that to a warrior in her last moments?”.

Atalanta was sure she heard a faint gasp from the far back, being sure it came from Achilles. Clenching the jacket in her arms, Atalanta spun on her heel, her furious steps stopping right in front of the queen. Unimpressed Penthesilea gazed at the deep scowl on the huntress’ face. Atalanta’s stomach was on fire, more than ever before. “I don’t know what you are up to, Berserker, but whatever happened between you and the brat is neither mine nor my Master’s concern.”, Atalanta warned, her tone as dark as the growl of a lioness on the perch. She was ever so slightly taller. Her tail had begun swaying again like a pendulum and her ears were folded back.

Atalanta was truly a queen of beasts to proudly tower above the shorter queen.

However, Penthesilea didn’t budge. Battle-hardened, not even a blade to her throat would get her to shiver, much less Atalanta’s scowl, neither her horrid whisper. “Leave him alone. If you are going to use him as a tool to make the brat suffer, then I will put you down.“. “I merely posed a question upon your master, Archer. Do not think too much. Or…do you fear him getting interest in me?”, she scoffed back. Penthesilea was a well aware of the effect she had on males. She would turn heads, even if she didn't want to. It was a curse she was forced to live with.

Atalanta’s lips twitched.

It was but a slight flash of her white teeth, ready to sink into the Penthesilea's neck.

“Honestly…I wouldn’t have given a damn…”.

Crio’s words marked the end of the silent clash of gazes. “You were a warrior, an enemy…Someone I needed dead. And you can believe me, I would have used everything I had to make sure you were out of the picture.”, he answered with a voice as cold as the arctic wind.

The second he turned his head around to glance over his shoulder, the air felt heavier.

Water.

Gazing into his blue eyes dragged them into the deepest trench of the ocean.

“I am no warrior, Penthesilea…If you need to describe me…”.

The second they gazed down at their feet, they would choke as the sight of the humongous shark pulled them down by their legs, saw-like teeth grinding into flesh and bone.

“I am an Assassin. You give me a target and I kill it. I do not fight for life and death, or good and bad. I once had the instinct of perseverance, but that is long gone. I have long lost the ability to see the world in black and white. If you were my enemy, I would have killed you without a second thought…and went on to the next target, leaving you to rot.”.

Penthesilea, Achilles, Shirou and Assassin felt the temperatures drop.

His Archer however couldn't bear to hear that one more second. ‘Okay, that is enough.’, Atalanta decided, ignoring the startled looks Crio was shot with. At that moment, he had shown himself as a ruthless monster, just like he thought himself to be. Something Atalanta hated already when he called himself an abomination. “Your question is answered, Berserker. Priest, you give us a message when things are starting to get moving. Crio, let us take our leave.”, she finished any further conversation.

Yet she felt it in the back of her head.

Penthesilea was smiling. A smile of someone who enjoyed what she was given. And Atalanta knew already that the situation between the hero and the queen would turn problematic. Penthesilea did that to make the hero who killed her suffer mentally.

Barely met, Crio and Atalanta came face to face with a few of the Red camp’s powerful Servants. Yet all they could do was wonder if the war will be settled without infighting.

The moment they stepped out, Shirou gazed at Penthesilea. “Berserker, what was this supposed to be?”, he asked, his look sharp and curious. With a swift turn of her head, Penthesilea responded callously. “Testing the waters. You spoke of compatibility, so I wanted to see if Atalanta really is able to trust a man.". Even after her life was over, the tale of the chaste huntress spread to the amazons who worshipped the god of war and the goddess of the hunt. "I heard of her. In my land, the legend of the chaste huntress is widely known. We ourselves allowed males in our life, but Atalanta’s mental strength to preserve her oath was respectable. She was called Artemis' daughter for a reason.”.

She could still feel Atalanta’s fierce gaze, protecting Crio's gack, falling upon her like a hail of arrows. “She trusts him already. If he were your normal master, she would neither scowl, nor stay so close to him. Something happened in those few hours that the huntress opened up.”.

“Then why did it sound like you were trying to drive a wedge between the two?”.

Faced with Achilles’ judgement of her intentions, she shot her burning gaze at him. “Father told me sis barely smiled. The only times she did that was with himself or Medea. People she trusted were rare.”, he remembered, gazing at the door. “Not only did she smile and laugh, but she stood between you and him. Yes, something happened that the two see in each other people they can trust. But if that is the case, I will not let you take punches at them.”.

“Oh? And why is that so, Rider?”, Assassin chuckled. His gaze went to Assassin's sinister grin. Crossing his arms, he sighed a bit. “Atalanta has been my childhood hero, my inspiration. And Crio, that man, summoned her without a catalyst. I don’t think that this is easily achievable with how my father described her.”.

Outside, Crio just opened door, allowing Atalanta to step out first. A grateful smile was on her lips.

“A distant, wild flower with vicious thorns. A beautiful beast, too fast for human eyes. The only ones she was at ease around were either around my father, having shown respect to her, or that other friend of hers. The witch that cut her brother to pieces, Medea.”, he explained. Ever so slightly he began to sulk. “But she called me a brat and here Crio did not even seem to have any interest in me.”. “Maybe you shouldn’t sound like you are flirting.”, Assassin giggled amused at the hero pouting like a child.

His heart stopped.

“…Did I…really sound like that?”. “She is messing with you, Rider. But maybe you should be careful with the term ‘sign of endearment’. It can easily be misinterpreted.”, Shirou relaxed the situation. With a sigh of relief, he knocked knuckles against his head. “I hope I didn’t. Sis could have very well been my mother, had my father not married Thetis before AND if he even had an idea how to open her up like Crio did. Really. I am not that idiot Oedipus that goes for a woman that could be his mother.”, he muttered, nervously ruffling his green hair. “Crap. I hope Crio did not think that, or else he is going to despise me. Still, I wonder what he did to get her to converse so easily. If she is that open, she might be in love with him.”. “Wouldn’t that a bit too quick?”, the priest nervously asked, yet getting shot down by Penthesilea. “Love at first sight is nothing that rare. Considering that Atalanta never experienced what it was, it could very well be true love down the path to war.”, she callously answered.

Love at first sight.

At that very term, Achilles looked away from Penthesilea, his adam apple moving to speak. He knew what it meant. After all, his own heart began to beat for a woman he killed, moments too late to confess.

“However…”.

All attention to Berserker, her waist coat flew with every step. “If the Huntress of Arcadia truly fell for someone…let us say someone who knew solitude like her…then these two will fiercely protect another like a pair of lions.”.

The priest smiled gratefully. “I appreciate your concern, Berserker.”. “Tch. Don’t mistake it. I want to win this war and grant my wish. That is all...Be wary of them, especially Crio…”, she warned, pressing her hand against the door.

She had smiled the moment their eyes met at the question…

…and her body had felt colder with every second she gazed at him.

“That is no lion only…That is a scarred Carcharias…”, she compared the white maned assassin to Poseidon's most feared beasts, seeing the torpedo-esque shape dash through the water and a knife-like fin tearing open the watery surface.

Vanishing in the sunlight, Achilles dashed off after her again. “Tell us when it is starting. Berserker, wait!”.

"Stop following me, _malaka!"._

The doors shut, Assassin's smile faded. Visibly discouraged she glared at her master. “First Saber, now Archer. Both our out of our grasp.”, she recounted, mustering his calm face. “Not only that, but Berserker confirmed it. That man is a monster in human skin.”.

“Then we’ll just have to make use of that ‘monster’…”.

His half-dropped eyes closed with a deep breath. “He is not devoid of reason, no berserker. Let us wait and see what happens. We need to plan.”.

“If you say so, master. Just be careful that this monster isn’t going to rip your hand off…not like that night.”, she sighed, following him to another room.

Crio finally met his Servant and found himself in the presence of more greek heroic spirits.

Heracles, Medusa and Medea were only the beginning, a sip of the wine that was history.

Now he was met with the fierce Penthesilea, the proud Achilles and his very own Archer, the beautiful, strong Atalanta.

But the meeting did not breathe confidence into Atalanta’s and Crio’s chest. Walking away, the wondered who they could trust in this war, besides each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Penthesilea!
> 
> Yup, you read correctly. Spartacus is not present here. Whenever I thought what I wanted to do with this story, I thought myself one thing...
> 
> What the hell am I going to do with Spartacus?
> 
> In that regard, I had no idea. Making him a Berserker that was this mindless broke him completely in my eyes. Really, every movie or series adaption showed Spartacus as strong willed person. But that was just disrespectful. Might as well have gone with the Abridged road and let him roar his name like a Pokemon :/ Would have been at least amusing. But why did I take Penthesilea of all people?
> 
> First, greek. I like Atalanta, I like Medea, I like Medusa. And of course, the powerful Amazon I adore just as much out of the females. 
> 
> Love her look and how strong willed she is, yet keeps her sanity...most of the time at least. I love the raging amazon, but in my eyes that was a bit too much that just mentioning his name made her go completely insane and think of everyone as Achilles. That and a few other things. It is no secret. Achilles loves Penthesilea. Our bro fell for her the second he lifted her helmet. Even in Fate that persevered and I am glad it did. 
> 
> Had they established a canon where Achilles really had a thing for Atalanta, they would have completely wasted his character :/ And let me tell you, that when you are a child and you get taught about our bro, most of the time you view him as an idiot. In greek school, the Illiad is part of the lessons and that pretty much shifts the entire attention only to Odysseus for winning the war with his smarts, while Achilles as being viewed as an arrogant prick. 
> 
> Ugh, he would probably sulk in a corner knowing that...
> 
> But there is more to Brochilles than meets the eye. Many I will explain further down his road he follows the queen on.
> 
> Anyway, you guys and girls who had them both Achilles and Penthesilea come home know that bittersweet moment he said he would offer his head to her as an apology if that soothed her, but ultimately chooses not to, because he has Ritsuka, or rather, us, to take care of. But even here, she did not forget that, but in general is much more sane.
> 
> As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter ;)


	8. My Master...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The queen of the amazons and there invincible hero of the trojan war.
> 
> The Berserker and Rider of Red.
> 
> Having only gone there to show that he had become master of Atalanta, the two were confronted with the unlikely pair, and began to worry about infighting.
> 
> Barely outside the gate, Atalanta began to think things through and felt her stomach twist when Crio resorted to put a cigarette between his lips to ease his stress, finding much, much resistance in his Servant.

Outside the gate, putting on the jacket again, Atalanta’s ears were folded ever since they left.

‘Penthesilea, Achilles. The queen of the amazons that have also worshipped Artemis and the son of my old friend.’. It was a wonder that she’d ever see the child Peleus had promised to tell all about her. In front her and Crio he had stood, yet chained to his biggest mistake. That chain seared into his skin with burning orange diamonds. Penthesilea had not forgotten, not forgiven. Whatever Rider had done to aggravate her so much that she calls it dishonorable, she couldn’t imagine it. ‘She asked Crio if he’d have called her beautiful in her final moments.’.

Crio shot her a swift look. The day was still young, as was their connection. But from what he felt he knew about her, seeing her pondering so hard was something knew, as was the silence. ‘What has gotten into her?’, he wondered when just minutes before her side was stinging from held in laughter at the cost of Achilles’ honor. ‘It has probably rattled her that Peleus’ son was here. Achilles, huh…’

Silently he held his thumb in front of his cigarette, hiding it behind his palm to ignite a flame.

‘Achilles and Penthesilea. Their fight alone is legendary as was how he threw himself into the water to give her a proper burial. But from what I saw, her blood was boiling from just standing next to him.

“Are you frustrated again?”.

Gazing at his thumb with half open eyes, Crio wished he would have waited for a better opportunity if the entire meeting hadn’t gone on his nerves. Now he had Atalanta staring into him again. “No…just stressed. They were going on my nerves.”. The way he admitted it showed that Crio was not particularly happy to have met any of them.

Greek legends they were, but he didn’t seem to really mind them appearing in front of him.

The joy she saw in his eyes when he was told her name…

Atalanta thought she saw the greek sea expand in his eyes, shimmering under the sun. And she felt happy. Never had she met a male that was so overjoyed to see her in the manner Crio had done.

Now he met two more greek legends…

…and the best they got was a weary smile.

‘Achilles was bound to be disappointed. From his bratty reaction, that overconfidence, he thought that Crio would jump in joy just from hearing who he was. Foolish child. Greek Crio may be, but nothing more. In this day and age, our lives are perceived in many different ways. Penthesilea however seemed much more focused on Crio’s scars and where he got them from. But what was she trying to do? Was all of this just to press his mistake further into the chest of the child?’.

Many things were in her mind. And all stopped at the sight of the flicker of a blue fire.

And when he was about to put on the cigarette with the blue flame out of his thumb…

‘Not this time!’.

…he nearly chocked a lioness swiftly snatched it out of his lips.

Walking with swift steps ahead of him, Atalanta twirled the unhealthy item between her fingers. An upbeat giggle escaped her at the feeling of blue daggers glaring at her. “Excuse me, but I will not allow my master to harm his body simply because a few idiots went on his nerves.”.

The corner of his eyelid began to twitch. At that very moment he really needed that smoke or someone would get punched. “Give that to me.”, he ordered unusually cold, holding out his hand. She saw his fingers twitching a bit. But the winter breeze he sent her was nothing to the summer breeze that was her voice. “No. No more smoking.”.

“Archer! I am warning you. You do not want to mess with me when I am in a bad mood.”.

“A shame. You are much more enjoyable when you are in a good mood. So you really need that thing here?”, she asked, playing coy. Her hand held out the cigarette for him to take. Grumbling he massaged his forehead. “Yes. It is a bad habit, but when I get people those four pout in front of me, I need that to calm down.”.

“So, hurting your body to get rid of stress?”.

“Yes.”.

“Hmm…”.

And just when his fingers were able to grasp his relief, the black gloved hand immediately pulled away.

The attempt to snatch the cigarette out of her hand was futile as she dashed back with swift steps. She spun elegantly on her feet, giving a playful smile. “I know better ways to relieve stress than damaging your body with this toxin.”. “I swear to every god on olympos, Archer. You are going to regret this!”, he warned. Slowly he began to bare his teeth at the Servant he just summoned. The lack of a smoke was really making him furious now.

Exactly what she wanted to see.

“If you want it, you’ll have to catch me for that, ‘Master’!”, she laughed at his fierce gaze.

Her taunt very real, she turned on her feet like a ballerina and dashed away, far out of his grasp. A vein began to pop on his forehead. His grin, teeth bared, would remind someone of a lion about to pounce. “Oh, you think you are being smart? I am quite fast myself, just for your information!”.

“Then show it, if you are so confident in your speed, ‘master’!”.

“Archer!”.

Roaring her name, he dashed after her, right into depths of the forest. Her amused laughter bounced off from the trees, observing Crio catch up to her.

“I got you!”.

“Really?”.

He yelped as his view was obscured. Like a snake shedding her skin, she threw the jacket into him. The swift moment blindness allowed her to merge with the green of the leaves.

The huntress out of sight, he checked his jacket swiftly, patting his chest pocket. The sigh that came out was full of relief. ‘That was close. I need to be more careful. If I lose the ring…’.

He did not want to imagine Medea’s wedding being ruined. Nothing and no one would protect him if he lost her wedding ring.

“What is wrong, ‘master’? Can’t keep up? You know, if males raced me and they were not able to catch me, they would lose their life!”.

His jacket back on, Crio slowly lost his patience with his Servants constant taunts.

“I do not know what you are getting at, but I will catch you!”.

“When you have already lost sight of me? I didn’t know you were a jester!”.

She was right. Crio completely lost sight of her. The forests were her hunting grounds and in her beautiful green dress, she easily camouflaged herself. To the naked eye, she was gone without a trace.

That was the perfect opportunity normally notch back an arrow to dig right between his eyes.

But there were a few things she did not know about him yet.

For example, how he had an increased sense of smell and hearing.

Leaning against the largest tree, he stilled his heartbeat, restricted his breathing to be nearly completely soundless, suppressed his mana to the point it was hard to notice.

Behind that very same tree, Atalanta patiently waited. ‘He is behind the tree, I know it.’, she noticed. She could not keep the smirk of her face, winking at the air. ‘Though still, that is impressive. You can control your body perfectly to hide yourself. Though, you might be able to hide your mana, you can’t hide your scent. You have a very distinctive one after all. It is actually rather alluring. I wonder what that is though?’.

Crio would never guess how long the parfume he put in Fuyuki actually stayed on. The faintest traces Atalanta was able to catch.

But when she was too focused to inhale the scent, Crio saw his opportunity, swiftly dashing around the tree to snatch her wrist.

A short, swift gasp escaped her lips. ‘Fast!’. In that instance, before the shark could lunge at her, Crio froze when Atalanta jumped all the way up to a branch.

“Are you serious?!”.

Squatting carefully to not let him peek up her skirt by mistake, she waved the cigarette in front of her as if it was catnip. “Oh, apologies, ‘master’. Can’t you jump up here? I should at least keep it fair, shouldn’t I?”, she laughed out at his frustrated grimace. “Come on! If you want to smoke that cigarette that badly, you will have to put some effort into catching me!”.

She was hiding how much her heart was beating.

At this point, this play was many things. Fun, training…

…and getting to know the frustrated man whose eyes sharpened like a knife.

‘I cannot hope to be able to protect him if things get bad. His reaction from before…’. She had reviewed the entire meeting, every reaction. Alone from that, she was able to get a better impression who Crio was as a person. ‘He is the kind who fights recklessly. That is where he got the scars from. An Assassin…If he describes himself as that, he does not know the concept of honor. Neither do I. Life and death are for me necessities. The strong prey on the weak. Fights are just that. Crio…I don’t want you to-‘.

Unable to finish her thought…

…a flash of blue appeared in front of her.

Kneeling right in front of her, Crio glared darkly into the Archer’s polished emeralds. “I got you this time, Archer.”, he grinned victoriously. His arm extended, snatching for the cigarette in the manner a snake lunged for prey.

Hooking her legs on the branch quickly, Atalanta threw herself backwards, avoiding losing the item in hand. Though at this point, it didn’t feel like play with him, but that he was out to hunt her.

Startled he gazed as Atalanta fell down, curling in the air. Almost silently with a cat’s elegance, she landed with a hand on the ground.

Turning her head up, she found herself in a feeling she never had before.

Hunted.

The huntress of Arcadia felt that she was the one being caught in the sight of a hunter, following her every step as if she was a wild lioness.

And she began grinning.

Bright, proud and enjoying herself, she watched Crio come out of his shell. Winking at his bared teeth, she sped off again, laughing at the sound of his frustrated growl, listening how his patience wore thin.

No matter what she did, Crio caught up with her.

Hiding behind trees.

Jumping from branch to branch.

Or racing among the maze of paths nature made inside the forest, as if making a racing track just for them.

“Are you getting out of breath, Crio?!”.

“As if! Just wait until I get you, Archer!”.

Turning her head around, Crio felt his blood boil at her smugness. “Pfe! There was no male faster than me. You are impressive but-“.

Before Atalanta spun her head to him, catching her sapphires in her emeralds, drawing him like bees to their honey, he noticed something sticking out of the leaves in front of her.

A branch stuck out from a heap of leaves, and she was running straight towards it.

“Atalanta! Stop!”.

“Not a chance! You are not getting this ci-“.

With full force her foot collided with the thick branch. Crio was unable to stop, trying his best to come to a halt.

“HUAH!!!”.

Their small scream was thrown back right on them as they fell.

Leaves were dancing all around them. Gently like rain, they were covered in green…

…in the most awkward position that could have happened with the huntress of Arcadia and the master.

The moment she fell, Crio crashed right into her. Both resisted taking a single breath.

Even one movement was out of option for them.

‘He is…right on top of me…’.

Atalanta’s heart was racing inside of her chest at the feeling of a man’s body laying ontop of hers. Cracking her eyes open, she closed them again the moment she saw his palms laying over her own. ‘He is right on top of me! I-I can feel his breath on my neck! I hope Lady Artemis isn’t watching this!’.

She wasn’t the only one jumping out of her skin.

She felt his own heart pounding against his chest.

Giving a small groan, the first thing he gazed upon were her long, blonde strands. Though rough, they felt soft when his cheek brushed over them. He needed a second to snap out of his trance, but when he did, shame was the least of his problems. ‘Sh…Shit…I fell right on top of her…’, he recognized, having goosebumps over his entire body. Everything inside him began to twist from the awkwardness. But he wasn’t alone in that feeling.

Atalanta sighed softly, trying to ease the tension. “Imagine that…The huntress of Arcadia…falling from a root while running…and landing below a male…”, she half attempted a joke. But in the end it made it even more awkward.

The blood rushed to their cheeks.

“I…made it more awkward, didn’t I?”.

“…You tried at least…Anything I could have come up with would have been much worse…”.

The first to move, Crio pressed his hands against the soil, getting himself into a crouching position.

Silently he was cursing whoever god decided that the branch had to grow like this, even more when he noticed how exactly they had fallen.

Mentally slapping himself, he stood up and knelt in front of Atalanta, hiding her red face in the leaves. After the bad joke to ease the atmosphere, she mentally slapped herself silly. ‘I was never good with jokes. Medea warned me time and time again…*sigh*…I only made it more awkward…’.

“You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”.

Gazing up a bit, she saw his extended hand. Her eyes didn’t know where to look.

Had that happened back in Greece, it would have ended badly if it was any male, or someone watched that.

But upon examining his face, despite his dropped eyebrows…

…his blue eyes clashed violently with a bright blush, full of worry and ignoring his shame spread on him.

She wasn’t the only who felt the need to hide.

Slowly she extended her hand, grasping onto his.

“I-I am fine…I guess…I took the play too far…Thank you…”, she meekly answered as she was pulled to her feet.

An awkward silence fell between them.

Shuffling with her feet, she took a look around to find the cigarette. But it was gone, probably beneath the grass. “Apologies…I lost it.”. “Forget the cigarette. As long as you didn’t hurt yourself.”, he answered very slowly. That thing was just luxury. That he placed her higher than an item made her heart skip a beat.

“Are you sure you are okay? That was quite the impact after all.”.

“I…am fine, Crio. Servants are sturdier than you think.”.

“I know, but…Ugh, forget it…Sorry.”.

“…What are you apologizing for now?”.

The awkwardness of having their bodies so close really didn’t help them.

Pretty much at a loss of words, he kept his arms crossed and his back to her.

“…Why did you run away with it in the first place?”.

His question was met with silence. It wasn’t her not wanting to answer, as much as she didn’t know how to put it. ‘I…just don’t like the thought of you poisoning yourself with those things…’, she though, clenching her left hand with her other. ‘I just want to say that, but…I can’t.’.

Walking ahead of him, Crio decided to not press the matter further. With a shake of his head, he followed muttering another word. ‘Things are awkward enough already as they are.’, he reminded himself.

Atalanta was so close to him. Her body felt delicate beneath him. Her scent was distinctive alluring. Her hair had smelled like a mix of the greek sea and the forests.

Though, he thought to have even caught a small bit of apple.

His face was as close to hers as when she whispered her name into his ear, but with bodies pressed together like that, him on top of her…

…it felt a completely wrong.

Mistakes happen, but to him, he felt he disrespected the Archer beside him.

Mentally, Crio was slapping himself silly. ‘I, the assassin of the gods, just fell on top of the Huntress of Arcadia, the CHASTE HUNTRESS, in a clichéd manner straight out of one of Shirou’s animes! The very woman who vowed to never marry, and I just…Agh! Bravo, malaka! You officially made yourself an idiot in front of Atalanta!!’.

Atalanta noticed how frustrated Crio seemed. His fists were tightly clenched, clearly betraying his calm façade when the flush on his face disappeared. ‘What is he so frustrated about? Is he still thinking about the fall?’. She couldn’t quite grasp what it was that made him clench his fists to the point she though he’d tear into his palm. Her palm over her chest, Atalanta took the silence to think. ‘It was an accident…That can happen. Had I kept my eyes forward, we wouldn’t have landed in that embarrassing position. It is still nothing to grime over. He didn’t do anything to me…Wait…’.

Gazing up at him, she felt the answer fall in front of her feet like a falling star.

‘Can it be that…he is frustrated because he fell on top of ME of all people? He said he read my tale…That he didn’t like what was written down…’.

She began to understand what made him beat himself up. ‘He was thinking about what they wrote down about me…Married and forced to a man’s bidding.’.

Her chest slowly began to grew warm…

…and a question snapped every over thought away.

‘Crio…what are you feeling for me?’.

And before she noticed, her lips lifted ever so slowly.

“I…don’t want you to smoke…”.

Soundless shock spread inside of him. His right eye cracked open, gazing down right beside him. Atalanta’s hair had an even more beautiful shade of blonde underneath the sun. Holding a strand of green back from hindering her view, Atalanta continued again to gaze blankly at the soil in front of them. “You said you were smoking under stress. That means that you have a bad habit. You are under pressure, stress and frustration more often than you care to admit, rather putting one of those things between your lips than to suppress it or relieve yourself of it in another manner. You also said it ruined your body.”. Seeing her slowly shake her head, he felt his throat grow dry. “I cannot understand why the first thing you would do when you are stressed or frustrated, instead of roaring or hitting a wall, you’d just break your body further from the inside out. I cannot understand that…”. “Everyone has a way to cope with moments they do not like.”, answered, calmly pulling out the package again. “Mine just is smoking. There are worse things to deal with that. I am glad that I am clean when it comes to alcohol, or I could be much, much worse…”.

He could see her arm tense. The moment she attempted to snatch them out of his hands, he immediately shifted hands to keep it away from her.

She wanted to take the package out of his hands badly, but this time, he was on guard.

Defeated she turned her head forward again.

Not stopping to gaze at her, he gazed at the cigarette that was pushed out, ready to put it between his lips. Sharply he squinted at the thing Atalanta tried to keep him away from, carefully glancing at her. Cross eyed, she walked ahead. ‘Why are you so hellbent on it, Atalanta? We barely met…’. A silent question without an answer. He gazed back at his cigarette he was ready to pull out. From the glare alone would expect it to catch fire by itself.

‘…Why didn’t I just get a new one?’.

At any point, had he been smart, he could have just gotten a new one while Atalanta was rushing through the forest. She would have hissed, thrown the one in her hand away and become frustrated at him.

But he didn’t…

He chased after her.

In the end, he did not even want the cigarette anymore.

He was only chasing after that bell like laughter that bounced from tree to tree, branch to branch, before he was pursuing her on the ground.

Chasing her bare back, her long flowing mane.

Chasing that smile that had enraptured him the moment she appeared.

Crio enjoyed Atalanta luring him into the woods to play like this, having him chase her.

And when he imagined that smile again, pursing his lips at his relentlessly pounding heart, he put the package back with a groan. Shocked she watched his hand store them inside his back pocket. “Crio?!”. “I…am not in the mood anymore…”, he whispered, avoiding her eyes feverishly.

Her lips curled up. It began to grow warm around her heart, a gentle summer breeze dancing around her.

“Was I the reason?”.

“…Who knows…”.

“Then…I will just have to make sure that you will never be in the mood for another cigarette again.”.

“I’d like to see you try that.”.

“Believe me, that is going to be one of the easiest disciplines.”.

The second the sun shined down on them, the sound of chirping birds hid her whisper.

“I will…I will make sure you will never put one between your lips again…There are better ways to cope with the death of a child.”.

It took a mere second for her to realize what she just said, hoping to Artemis herself he hadn’t heard it. But at the sight of a warm smile as he enjoyed the sun a bit, she found herself relieved. When Crio had smiled like that before, when they talked at night on the bench, she found that charming.

She had met men in her lives that wanted her.

Meleager for example who offered her the pelt.

But his rash decision only confused her.

Hippomenes who tried to use the golden apples.

His reward was her dragging him to the starting point again, breaking his neck in front of the crowd ruthlessly.

Crio’s own reaction however was indescribable. It was sincere.

Her hand flat over her chest, she remembered fondly the moment she revealed her name. How speechless he was, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. How much she enjoyed seeing someone show such innocent, sincere joy hearing it was Atalanta in front of them. ‘You were chocking. I saw that. You were happy, truly happy. You were not happy to see a woman in front of you, but that it was I. I thought that…just for a second…you would begin to shed a tear…’.

Again her chest felt warm, safe.

Unconsciously she scooted a bit closer, keeping a safe distance so their elbows wouldn’t touch.

‘It is a wonder, really. I never thought I would grow this open to a man. I would have not even dreamed to have that happen in such a short time. Merely hours have passed since I was summoned, but I feel comfortable at your side. I saw so many things in you I saw in myself. At first you were interesting. But when we walked, you never began to make advances to me. We spent the night with an enjoyable talk and I thought I was back on the Argo with Peleus and Medea. And then…’.

The minute she found herself back in the hospital, she began to swallow. Her throat hoarse, she saw the girl covered in bandages again.

‘That was no farce. Your quivering shoulders, your sob, your prayer! Everything was real! You…wanted only the best for that girl…and…’.

The night was forever edged in her mind.

Crio had warned her to stay outside in the hall that bore the stench of death. Yet she followed him without a second thought. The sight of the corpse in the bed, Crio gently brushing over the girl’s hair with a soft sob held back by biting his lips.

Swallowing her heartache, Atalanta’s lips lifted.

“Crio…”.

“Hm?”.

“When we found our place in this forest to stay in…I want to tell you about my wish.”, she spoke with a cool expression.

His eyes were locked ahead. Yet bad memories lurked inside his blue ones.

The wish of a Servant is their very reason for fighting, for being here. It is everything they are, everything they are putting themselves on the line for.

He glanced at Atalanta with worry. “Do you really-“. “Yes. I am positive. Because I have seen that we feel the same.”, she assured. Returning forward, he mumbled nervously: “If you say so…I will hear you out…”.

“…You are afraid…”.

His fists clenched inside the pockets of his jeans at her swiftly noticing his nervousness.

Because she was completely right. It was no use hiding it.

Her remembered what Artoria fought for…

…undoing the future by changing the past. Leaving the sword in the stone be for another to draw it. He found it foolish. Only because another could be king, who knew if the circumstances would be as she imagined it?

What if the new king was a tyrant?

Would Britannia even survive that long?

It was a long talk, but unlike Shirou, Crio still understood her wish. That was the reason she could give up. Because he had witnessed more than enough moments to where he wished to turn back time, but bit his lips bloody, letting things pass as they did.

And Crio feared what Atalanta might be wishing for. ‘Do you…also wish to undo the past?’, he wondered. His heartrate had dropped. Still beating, if grew heavier and heavier. ‘Do you want to undo your unhappy marriage?’.

“I was never married.”.

Her voice shook him out of his trance, yet at the same time, froze him anew.

A sad smile was on her lips. No scowl, no anger, no laughter.

Just a silent, heartbreaking smile. “You…need to be careful when you are thinking to yourself. I could hear it.”, a soft, heart wrenching laugh explained. Her lips seemed to quiver even the slightest bit as she took a deep breath, her chest slowly raising. “If you read my twisted tale, you read every lie. Hippomenes dropped golden apples and like a mindless beast I stopped to pick them up, right? I became his wife, he raped me in a temple of Artemis and in her rage for me breaking my oath to her, I was turned into a lion? I can assure you, that is not the case. I was never married. True to my oath I lived…having found no man that accepted me for who I was...”, she told a bit about her past.

“…No one…”.

It was only the smallest glimpse at her end…

…but that alone eased Crio up immensely and the same time, felt sympathy for her. ‘So…you were lonely…just as Medea said you were…’. Shoulders slumped with an awkward smile, he answered. “I see…That is a relief.”.

He just gave her the biggest opportunity to tease him right here and there. If not for having seen his nervousness, she would have jumped at the opportunity almost immediately to tell him, that if he were a bit faster, he’d stand a chance.

But this wasn’t the time right now.

Because she knew Crio showed her a side no one would ever hope to see from him.

“I do not want fear to cloud your judgement. Believe, Crio. I know we bear the same wish. I would have never been summoned if our wishes were different.”, she responded to his unease.

Since her summon she thought to see something between them.

A thread connecting their hearts. It was not the bond they shared now that made her feel this confident, but something much, much purer. Something she could not explain herself.

The wind raced past them…

Leaves rained down on them both…

The very moment he turned his head to see the flames of dedication burning a bright emerald green, Atalanta took Crio’s hands into her own.

Not in the manner before.

Because now he noticed her gauntlets were gone. Her touch protective, palm on palm. Crio had expected her hands to be rough. Maybe his skin was rougher than hers, but to him, it felt softer than anything he felt.

The were large. Atalanta silently savored the feeling of the rough hands in hers. Unable to comprehend what she was doing, she simply decided to let body and heart do the rest.

By that, what she wanted to convey, would come out like she hoped it would.

Emerald…the color of life shining so strong in her eyes. A warm meadow he saw himself in, running afterwards the huntress waiting on the hill. In those eyes, he found something no man would have ever hoped to see in her.

Desire.

The desire for someone to be at her side. He couldn’t find out what exactly that feeling was aside from that, what feelings spurred her on to feel it, but she wanted him around.

“Discard what I said before, Crio. Before your fear clouds your mind anymore, I will tell you my wish, straight and true as an arrow, right here, right now. Will you hear me out?”.

The forest around them faded into darkness.

Alone they stood, eye to eye, each to each.

Nothing to interrupt them from letting their hearts speak.

Crio nodded softly down to her. The worry from before was brushed away by the breeze of her beautiful laugh. She found her chest grow lighter, allowing a thankful smile form again on her soft looking lips, a breeze straight out of Arcadia’s forests that cradled him. “Okay. But one more thing. I know you won’t, but…please don’t laugh…please.”. “I won’t. I promise.”, his assurance entered her folded ears, giving her the strength to swallow her hesitation. “No matter what your wish is, I will never laugh.”.

It was reassuring to know that this man in front of her would not make fun of her.

Taking a deep breath, she gazed up at him.

She lifted his hands a bit, her thumbs stroking over their backs.

“Crio…I…”.

When her chest grew lighter, his own tightened. He felt the need to breathe, the hands of regret chocking his neck.

“…I…wish for a world where all children are loved…”.

Smiling up at him, she could not see his shock. His wide eyes did not convey the horror flooding his heart.

“I saw it! I am sure about it! You…are my master. How you grieved for the child was no lie! I…never saw a man as gentle as you, yet having such a fearsome look. I…”. Blood rushed into Atalanta’s cheeks as she gazed up at him. The image of his eyes lighting up at her wish invaded her mind.

But upon seeing his face, they were clenched shut.

He couldn’t look at her.

His lips were pressed together to not allow a single word to leave him.

“Crio…what is wrong?”, she asked. His hands started shaking in hers growing colder by the second. The face that was so flushed when he fell on top of her grew as white as his hair. Her heartbeat increased tenfold in worry, grasping his hands tighter.

He stopped breathing…

He didn’t want to breathe…

“Crio! Breathe!”.

The second he was told to, his lips opened for an agonizing wheeze. “What are you doing?! I told you, I am your Servant! If something is bothering you, tell me!”.

Again he felt the need to avoid her gaze.

“You…are going to hate me for this…”.

Forcing her smile to stay she shook her head. “What nonsense are mumbling about? Why should I hate you? You have been so kind to me, despite being your Servant. The only reason I would have to hate you is if you-“.

“No…you are going to hate me, Atalanta…”.

“…Crio…?”.

Her voice, soft as cotton, barely caught him from falling. How he wished to just black out right now to not have to say those words.

But he had to…

Grinding his teeth, he whispered to her…

“There is no way…to save all children of this world…”.

A dagger, thrown straight into her heart.

Her ears lowered. Yet she still grasped his hands tightly at the mere feeling of him trying to pull away.

She didn’t allow him to pull away from her.

There was no smile on her facing laughing at his stupidity. No.

Fiercely she glared up at him. A glare, twin emerald arrows shooting straight into his soul. Flesh and bone were for naught against her, making him cringe inside. “You are lying. You believe in that wish yourself.”, Atalanta’s voice clung to him. Every word he just said contradicted what she felt from the very beginning, what she experienced with him. “You are lying! Lying to yourself! I know that you are lying through your teeth! You wish the same! I-I know it!”.

What she learned was hidden behind the scars on his skin.

What she believed Crio to be.

A man that had a heart for children. Someone she didn’t need to hide her true self from.

Her grip grew stronger, soon feeling like steel pressing onto him from both sides.

A normal man’s hands would be crushed already by the pressure if the weight of her words didn’t.

“Are you telling me this was all a fluke?!”.

Enraged for once, she bared her teeth up at him. “Was everything you said to me a mere lie?! When you were about to cry in front of her deathbed?! When you told me that you were admonished about my end?!”. More and more powerful she held onto him. Fear coursed through her veins, clouding her mind.

“Was…everything I thought of you to be just myself imagining that the Master that drew me was good hearted man? One I could open myself to?! Was I that foolish?! Was I never summoned by compatibility as that damned priest said?!”.

The silence fell upon them like a blanket of snow.

In the middle of a snow storm, she thought the man she saw at the beginning have been nothing but a phantasm, a dream she wished to have been.

“Crio! Tell me! Are you just like those Bastarde I sent to Hades?! Speak! What ar-Kgh?!”.

The look in his eyes horrified her, restricting the rest of her voice.

It wasn’t the dead look he had before when he cut his emotions away.

The blue ocean that seemed so warm before, slowly began to overflow.

The hands she held so tightly shuddered horribly, unable to stop. Despite his throat tightening, Atalanta seeing how his Adam apple moved as he tried to swallow, Crio couldn’t keep his from softly cracking. “Atalanta…your wish…”, he whispered broken before needing to gasp for air.

Atalanta silently watched him struggle to speak.

He was fighting with everything he had, yet found himself unable to in front of her expectant gaze.

“…Take your time…”.

The frustration that clouded her disappeared.

She had seen it nearly once before, only that his back was turned towards her when the moon shined on the corpse.

This time, she was face to face with him in his emotional struggle, seeing with her own eyes what he tried to hide.

How the death of a child broke him.

“Take a deep breath…and then tell me the truth. Tell me what you experienced…and what you think…”.

She was begging for an answer, softly coating her words with sympathy she felt for him. It was her final confirmation that Crio was really her master. The final confirmation she needed to walk into war with him side by side. “I apologize. I pressured you so much. I…”, she whispered, hoping it would help. “I am sorry…Take your time…”.

A person she did not to hide anything from. She showed her smile. She showed her rage.

He himself did not barricade his sorrow. No biting his lips or anything. If she saw tears no other did, then it would have been like that.

Taking a deep breath, Crio’s eyes cleared up a bit from the rain that was about to drop. Gathering every bit of courage, he began, his voice in a tone so weak, she never thought to hear of the man covered in scars. “Atalanta…your wish is bright. It is so bright that people grow blind from it.”, he whispered. The tone alone felt so heavy, nearly breaking her heart in two. “It is…incredibly beautiful. The problem you wish to solve is very true, even in this time. It is so incredibly beautiful. I want to stand behind you with that and support you. I want to chase it with you. But…”.

The moment his lips quivered a bit, she stepped in once more, stroking the back of his hand with her thumbs. “It’s okay. Slowly. Breathe slowly. I…won’t hate you.”, she whispered with a soft smile. “No matter what you say, I won’t hate you. See? Just as I said, we feel the same. I don’t know what you have seen, but…I think I understand that this is a part of why you were so gentle to her and me.”.

A slight nod, he inhaled deeply. Atalanta was able to read him like a book. The only one who was close to doing that were Medea and Medusa, and even that took time.

And here she is, a huntress that he barely met, openly reading his emotions from his sapphire eyes that blinked down at her.

“Atalanta…I…have seen children die left and right.”, he began to explain. “I am an orphan myself. I lost my parents early through war, travelled the world by myself.”.

Atalanta silently observed with dropped eyesbrows how he pursed his lips.

A seal he didn’t desire to break. One he wasn’t allowed to break.

He wanted to tell her badly what he really was. But he had to keep it hidden for now.

How primordial gods dragged his body over the sands of Arcadia, not caring for his skin being scrapped open…

Not caring for the woman that cried and begged to leave him alone, that he was just a lonely child…

His identity as an assassin, a blade the gods forged out of a child that was swept onto Arcadia’s beaches with barely a flicker of life left, he kept hidden from Atalanta. But his chest burned to tell her, to be truthful to the woman that was so honest to him.

“I…tried my best to save as many children as I could from being left on the streets, beaten, abused and worse. I wanted to spare them of my fate, before they found their hands covered in blood. Once they fall down there, there is no turning back. You cannot get out from that hellhole.”. Despite being calm, his words spoke of horrors she didn’t want to imagine. Every quiver, every crack let her peak at the corpses she saw beneath, staring at him with hands tearing at his scars.

His shoulders slumped, heavier from guilt.

“But whenever I tried to save even one, it died right after.”. “I know…That is why you asked the gods if you were cursed, right?”.

She felt a crack in her heart when he nodded slowly, gasping for air.

“She was but one of many. Atalanta…I…do not believe a holy grail can truly bring salvation to children. Neither can my hands. I truly want to believe it can. I want to support you. I will support you! If you really desire it, I will carry you towards the grail myself. But…”.

His request was more of a prayer than anything. His fingers curled up, holding onto her…

She was a lifebelt at this very moment, keeping him from drowning.

“…You have been in a grail war before…have you not, Crio?”.

At his most vulnerable, he began to choke. His entire body seemed to cringe at her warm smile. “You mentioned Medusa before, the dreaded gorgon. You met her?”.

The second her name wandered over Atalanta’s lips, his eyes widened a bit.

With a soft sigh of relief, he remembered the last time he saw her.

How she playfully woke him from his slumber, yet immediately reprimanding him for not taking care of his body and let Medea look over the large scar on his back. How she always teased him with how much time they spent, calling him ‘agapi mou’, my love, just to see him blush and growl.

She was the first Grecian Servant he ever laid eyes upon. A woman, tall and beautiful, eyes like gems that glowed underneath the moon. And so very, very kind to the greek, even joining him on one of his assassination jobs one time to make sure the scar on his back wouldn’t open.

Seeing his lips curl up at the fond memory, her worry faded. “You say…the grail cannot handle my wish. Why do you think that?”. Pursing his lips, Crio’ eyes opened.

Fear was washed away. Fear of Atalanta hating him.

Crio took every bit of courage he had to steady his voice. “The grail in a war caused a large portion of the city to be nearly completely eradicated. Countless humans died. Children were among them.”, he explained of the disaster.

The mud that fell the second Artoria’s Excalibur cleaved the holy grail in two.

Like chaos itself, the flames it caused devoured all living things.

Crio remembered having run through the chaos, getting out as many survivors as he could. The air was heavy, filled with the biting smell of burning flesh.

That he could feel the mana of living beings helped massively, but not every time he was fortunate enough to have been in time.

His palms were burning, lifting the burning rubbles in masses to save the men, women, elderly and children out of the chaos.

He was rushing towards the next life he felt barely vanish…

…stumbling across a broken man, searching for something through the rubble. His coat was tattered and bloody. He had been in a dangerous fight.

But instead of saving himself, he frantically searched every corner for something, or someone. When Crio rushed away, he could hear the man crying behind him. Relief…

…as he pulled out a young boy with orange hair, barely alive.

“Not only that, but many lost their families. I heard of countless children losing their parents. It was a terrible sight. That is why…”. “…you do not believe in a grail to be able to grant my wish…”, she whispered, finishing his sence for him…

…her voice softly beginning to crack.

“I see…I-I see!”.

Her own eyes were readying tears to be let loose. The sight of these eyes that were so strong before, that supported him when he was about to break, brought him to nearly crumble. “M-My wish…You do not want to support it…”. Her gasps send shudders down his spine. Atalanta did everything she could to fight the floodgates from opening. “You do not want to support it…because you fear it bringing disaster…I understand…”.

Heavy.

Not even a single battle had been fought, but Crio’s biggest challenge as her master bore an incredible weight.

To be Atalanta’s master, the master of this legendary Archer that was about to shed tears…

…he would have to be ready to carry her hope on his shoulders.

To gain her trust, he would have to accept her wish.

His doubt was enough that any normal person would have turned and left.

If they had seen the chaos of the lesser grail had caused, they would not believe another grail to bring happiness.

But Atalanta still held onto his hands. She could have let go.

There was someone who understood her. The moment she would let go, she would find herself returning to the throne of heroes.

“Atalanta…do you really want to fight this war? The grail…it might not be able to grant your wish. I…might be forced to destroy it…”, he explained in all honesty, never letting go of her.

At this point, at this time, he wanted to be strong for her. When she appeared, she was calm, collected, her gaze fixated on something he could not see in the far distance.

Then she smiled when they spoke underneath the moonlight, enjoying him choking at her name.

Rushing inside the forest with him pursuing her, laughing at his ability to keep up.

And here she poured her heart out to him.

Atalanta was a secluded woman, one that always held a shield over her heart. But she decided to stop holding it, letting him see her true self.

“Even despite all of this, do you want to fight?”.

Giving her best possible smile, she nodded.

Every doubt he had, every fear he had, Crio pushed all of that into the deepest pit he had in his heart, casting it all out with the breath out of his lips. Taking her right hand in both of his, he knelt in front of her. Eyelashes fluttered at the sight the greek lion showing respect as he was pressing their hands to his forehead.

His sign of respect.

His sign of loyalty.

Something he would not even do in front of the gods, he did in front of a woman, a Servant.

HIS Servant. The one he wished to meet.

“Atalanta, Archer of Red…I promise you on my name…On the very monster ‘they’ had created within this body…I will follow you. If you wish to fight, I swear, I will drag anyone who stands in your path below the surface! But…do me one favor…”.

Shock faded.

“Please…think this through…There are other ways to save children…That is all. I will fight at your side without anymore doubt.”.

A single tear tickled her cheek, wiped away before her master would be able to see it. The warmth he offered spread through his palm towards her fractured heart. The cracks disappeared almost instantly, healed by comfort and respect.

Hesitating no longer, she put her left hand over the one holding her own.

“I will hold you onto that, my master. I will not forget what you dread. But do not throw yourself in front of me without thinking.”, she agreed, her hand folding over her chest. “Master and Servant, or…rather people like us are bound stronger than those summoned via relics.”.

Her smile returned, growing brighter and brighter.

“I may be an Archer…but I will do everything in my power to protect you. You are not alone, Crio. You do not need to shield me with your life. We will fight…side by side…understood?”.

“Side…by side…”.

Always alone.

That was how he walked through life and battles.

Out of shadows he came, snapped necks, shot bullets into hands, burned alive, electrocuted, all before returning into the darkness the gods cast him into.

And now…here she was…making him recite the same words with what could be seen as joy in his eyes.

The huntress he read about.

The one he loved to meet.

The one…whose feelings to her he found inexplainable.

Pulling him to his feet, Atalanta and Crio exchanged a smile.

Strength never felt before coursed through them. Loners in their own regard, they found someone to trust in.

The huntress herself couldn’t quite explain the feelings in her chest, much less what he felt for her.

But when their fingertips brushed over another’s as they let go…

…the characteristic scarlet of the command seals glowed softly underneath the sun.

A deep ocean blue, a lush leaf green, before returning to red as the blood that would be shed soon.

The fog that had still obscured their view had lifted and side by side, they walked through the forest, exchanging warm smile.

Their hearts were light, lighter than even an eagle’s feather.

“A question, Crio.”.

“Sure. What is it?”.

“Why didn’t you just get a new cigarette?”.

“…”.

“Oh, you are blushing!”.

“Can we discuss that another time, please?”.

“No. I want an answer. Could it be…that you liked chasing after me?”.

Pressing his lips together, Crio resisted every bit to give her the satisfaction of him unable to stop thinking about her. Yet that smile seemed to know already more than he’d care to understand.

“I see, I see. Well, in that case…”.

Immediately his eyes followed her how she snatched the entire package out of his pockets, running away from him again. “Hey! Are you serious?! Are we going to do this again?!”, he growled the second he found his back pocket empty. He was so absorbed in their moment, that she had an easy time stealing it.

“Now I have more than enough reasons to get you to stop smoking, ‘master’!”, she gloated, playfully waving the package and rushing away from him, Crio hot on her tail.

“Atalanta, I swear! Stop calling me master!”.

“We’ll see about that! Ela! Try to catch me if you can!”.

“I swear, I will catch you this time and then you are going to regret it!”.

“First time for everything!”.

“And what do you mean by that now?”.

“What happens to the man who overtakes me?”.

“What are you even getting a-“.

“Think carefully about my story as you chase the end of my tail, Crio! Let us see if you can overtake me!”.

The way his voice faded as he realized what she was playing at, Atalanta’s laughter grew ever louder.

Turning her head around, she observed how Crio fought with everything he could to keep himself focused, unable to stop her heart from getting wings.

‘…I found him, Lady Artemis…’.

Jumping over the log of a fallen tree…

‘I finally someone I can trust in…I thought that, aside from Medea and Peleus, I would never find people I could trust and open myself to…’.

…the sun brightly shined down on the pair of lions.

‘But here he is, chasing after my tail with everything he has…’.

Two people, two lonely hunters, bearing smiles they barely knew as they ran through the woods…

‘My…Master…’.


	9. Memories of bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away from the poisonous presence of the Shirou Kotomine and his Assassin, Atalanta and Crio had been walking through the woods, opening their hearts to another.
> 
> Openly, she had confronted him with her wish, hoping for support from the man that had cried for a dead child he barely knew. While not fond of the through of clinging to grail, he promised her to stay by her side, not noticing the small shift in color on his command seals as they continued their stroll with smiles on their faces...

Despite being silent once more, it was comforting.

Before it had felt just awkward after they stood up, but now…

…it felt like a warm blanket.

Side by side, they strolled through the woods, enjoying the little cracks of light through the sea of leaves protecting them.

A soft smile on her lips she was never able to lose after they spoke about her wish, she glanced up at Crio. Every muscle in his body was relaxed, his shoulders back and his chest sticking out, inhaling the cleansing air of the forest. The moment she noticed the muscle in his neck moving to her, she gazed ahead, not stopping to smile. Seeing that relaxed expression on her made him feel more at ease himself.

After their confession before about the wish she holds dear, how he doesn’t think the grail to be able to solve it, yet promising to stay by her side…

…having a calm moment was just what they needed.

“Say, Crio?”.

“Hm?”.

Brushing her hand over the wood of a tree they passed by, Atalanta asked: “Where are you planning to set up our camp? You said something about the woods before. Was that truth, or just a swift answer to get away from the priest?”. As a woman of nature herself, having been raised in the wild, the woods were here home. Shirou Kotomine had offered accommodation, but both Crio and Atalanta had felt something to be off about it. Atalanta had felt her heart flutter slightly when her master said that he preferred the woods instead town, though she presumed it to have been at the spur of the moment. Taking a moment to consider his answer, he responded calmly. “That was the truth. I do live in modern times and such, but I feel the calmest outside. I cannot stand too many people at once.”. She nods, feeling her chest grow warm. “You know, if you have to go into the crowds, I can just go into my spirit form to hide. I don’t mind.”.

“Do you like it?”.

“…No. I don’t.”, she admitted. The smile faded, her eyebrows furrowed. Much the same look she had on her face when they met for the first time, Atalanta mumbled. “I cannot smell the rain…I cannot feel the wind brushing over my skin…I cannot hear the children laugh…I hate it…”.

“Then you will not go into spirit form. See it as an order.”.

The summer breeze that was his voice at that moment felt amazing to her twitching ear, pushing away every bad thought she held. He didn’t hesitate a single second to answer with honesty clear as water.

“And what about my ears and tail?”.

And now he found himself sweating. That was a problem.

Her elegantly swaying tail…

Her adorably twitching ears…

Fluffy…fluffy lion ears…

She smirked as his eyes fixated on them when he began to think.

“Do you want to touch them?”.

“You are teasing me. I am seriously thinking how to get you dressed for public. A coat…maybe a long dress…”.

A small laugh mixed with a sigh came over her lips. “Let me show you something.”. Eyebrow rising, he gestured for her to go on, crossing his arms.

Her eyes closed…

…an in a split second, her ears disappeared, as did her tail.

Atalanta laughed as he began to blink confused. “…How did you-“. “I hid them and got my old ears back.”.

Shock of the century was written all over his face, thrown away by a shake of his head for a doubtful glare. “…You are messing with me…”.

Brushing her green bangs, a bit, she grinned at his confusion. It was a sight for her sore eyes. “See for yourself. Go on.”, she offered, stepping right in front of him. The distance between them lessened, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Wait…you mean-“. “Of course. You cannot check if you don’t touch my face. Go on. You have my allowance.”.

His throat began to dry a bit.

In the light that cracked through the green leaves, her emerald eyes furthered the playful glint, only making her more beautiful to him.

“Alright…Then…”, he whispered, slowly rising his left hand. Carefully his hand was sliding between her green hair and her cheek.

Fingers brushed over her cheek by accident, causing both to flinch. The first to relax, a small blush spread underneath Atalanta’s eyes, while Crio had to fight to keep his heart from not jumping out of his body.

It was only a short touch, but he couldn’t help admire the soft feeling of her skin.

And then…

…he felt everything he knew just shatter in a second.

“Well?”.

“…How do you Servants function!? I was damn sure you were permanently stuck with them!”.

Her taunts were not without basis.

He found himself poking the earlobe of a normal, human ear.

“You have got to be kidding me…Too many things I still have to lean…”.

Atalanta immediately began to giggle as he suddenly got the look of a curious child, rubbing her earlobe gently between his thumb and index finger, hesitation of touching her completely gone. “Normal ears…Huh…They feel like the real deal...”. “Crio, stamata (Stop it)!”, she laughed when his hand went behind her ear. She couldn’t stop her giggling, grasping his wrist.

“Don’t tell me you are ticklish behind your ear.”.

“Haha! I am not only laughing because I am ticklish!”, she sighed, taking a deep breath. Having Crio lose his cool like that was a sight to behold, something only a few people managed. Relieved when his hand pulled away, her lion features returned. “I do prefer those however. They are cute, don’t you think?”, she winked at him, skipping ahead of the frozen master before the thawed again under her smile. Putting his hands in his pockets, he followed.

“Yes, yes. They are cute.”.

“Glad you agree with me.”.

“You behave more like a fox in clad in royal blue instead of a lioness in green.”.

“Lioness, huh? Do you want me to bite you?”.

“…I am glad you did not say that with others around.”.

“Do you think Peleus’s son would care? He would have pushed you to get a move on.”.

“I wonder if you really are as chaste as the legends say…”.

“…I can show you, if you prove to be faster than me.”.

The heat in his cheeks could put the sun to shame. “Stamata! (Stop it)”, he growled to hide his shame. Yet all it got was an overjoyed laugh out of her. “Hahaha! Ah, your eyes clash wonderfully with that blush, ‘master’.”.

She was unquestionably flirty for some reason. Crio noticed that ever since they left and even more after their heart to heart about her wish. No matter what he said, begging, turning his head away, she would neither stop, nor hold herself from letting his words ricochet back at him. She was teasing him at every opportunity.

It felt sort of like Medusa was at his side, snapping at him whenever he was being lazy, for once at least.

The faintest of smile as he remembered the Rider of Fuyuki, he began to worry about them. ‘I hope everything is okay over there. Sakura’s body is still stabilizing. I wonder if Medusa is still working at that antique store. Someone who loves to read as much as she does should really work either in a library or at least a small book store.’.

Observing Atalanta jump on a tree to gather some apples for them, he allowed himself a dark grin to spread. “Be careful with your jumps or I might see under skirt by mistake.”. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”, the question bounced off of her grin, shooting straight into his heart and the blood to his cheeks as he hastily walked on. Atalanta’s tongue was sharp and her mind fast. Taking a jab at her would be returned swiftly. “Aw, you are shy. You might make me fall for you, ‘master’.”, she continued to tease as he rolled his eyes. “You are making me sound like a guy running after every beautiful woman he comes across.”.

He gave her way too many opportunities to take another bite.

Apples in hand, they continued their stroll, reaching what seemed like the end of a tunnel.

The light intense, the second the stepped outside…

…they were welcomed to the natural paradise protected by walls of trees.

Their eyes grew round at what could be only described as a painting made by nature itself. Not a word came out of their lips, breathless at what beauty they bestowed to gaze upon.

A large lake filled with clear water. The river passing through constantly cleaned the water.

Emerald green grass on one side, a flower bed, a rainbow of colors on the other.

Greeting the pair, a gust of wind cradled them with beautiful petals.

A smile spread on Crio’s lips. “Looks like we found our place.”, he whispered while he took a look around. Making sure her hair doesn’t get into her view, Atalanta nodded. “Yes, this is perfect…It’s breathtaking…”.

Kneeling down at the edge, Crio put a finger inside of it. A mysterious blue glow surrounded his hand as he took in various information with a deep breath.

‘Okay, the water is perfect.’, he nodded. ‘It is completely clean. No chemicals or anything tainting the quality. Good for drinking as well as bathing. Nature has built a natural cleaning system here.’.

“What were you doing just now?”, Atalanta wondered, leaning down beside him. She had seen the beautiful blue glow surround in his hand. Shaking his hand free of water, he explained briefly: “I checked the water quality if it is tainted, but it is crystal clean. You can even take bath in there without any problems. The river is constantly serving fresh water here and the soil beneath is not tarnished by chemicals.”.

As he wandered towards the log of a fallen tree, Atalanta gazed impressed into the clear water reflecting her youthful face. “You saw all of that by putting your palm into the water? You impress me by the second, Crio…”. There were still many, many things she had to learn about them, not all able to impress her like this. A small smirk spread on his face. He was glad to have gotten on her good side, considering her legend. “I can expect that if I were any normal master, a compliment of that kind would be rare.”.

“Not only a compliment…”.

Her arms crossed underneath her chest, she gazed up into the sky. “I wouldn’t even talk as much with you as I do at this moment, or even joke.”.

It looked the same as ever. The same, soothing blue, clear of clouds.

Just like it had been back in Greece.

“Crio…I…think it is clear enough that my wish to save children is dear to my heart, yes?”.

She heard his approving mumble.

Silently she observed his left hand emitting small blue sparks, turning into a violent torrent, taking the form of a weapon in his hand.

And again, like the night before, his katana appeared in hand, the scabbard as white as the moon with symbols reminiscent of greek vines crawling over it, black as night.

A beautiful weapon…and untypical to see of being wielded by a greek.

As he drew his blade, Atalanta continued, careful not to break his concentration as he held the sharp blade barely above the trunk. “You…How could I describe it best?”, she sighed scratching her temple. The sight of the clear water did not reflect her feelings being all over the place. It was way too calm, to peaceful, when she found herself in a storm inside her mind. “Crio, what do you expect when you hear of a woman that has shunned men all her life?”.

“Distant, unapproachable. Depending on the situation, either curious of them if just being secluded or hateful.”, he answered with ease. “That was the impression I had of you when you glared at me the first second. I thought you would try to tear my lunge out.”.

The wind seemed to have grown much, much colder, brushing over Atalanta’s shuddering skin. “I-Is that so…”, she stuttered into her palm. Given her awkward smile, she clearly bore a bit of regret. ‘That is what Medea warned me about…But after having had to run my entire life, I couldn’t help it. I have a natural scowl, I know that…’, she remembered her friend. A small pushed from between her lips, she gave him a sorry look. “Crio…I apologize again…for pressuring you like this before. But…this wish is…It just…”.

Crio’s blade hovered above the woods, not moving an inch. He waited patiently for her to resume. Whatever she had to say was bothering her to the point she couldn’t formulate an entire sentence in her mind.

And he already knew why.

Taking a deep breath, he answered for her: “That wish is all you have, right?”. The sound of the soft gasp out of her lips followed a muffled ‘yes’.

His gaze at his word, he remembered the last time the kendo swords clashed.

The wood splintered more and more as the blue Saber stepped forth, swinging it over her head with incredible precision and speed, a living storm he redirected with a firm block, the weapon sliding off his.

She had confronted Crio, asked him if he supported her wish of he found it foolish, to tell her just like Shirou to discard it.

Distraught and enraged, feeling how torn she was, he offered to fight her. He didn’t know for how long he endured her strikes.

Artoria hadn’t held back. Viciously, crying for her people, she brought the wooden sword down once more to break Crio’s guard.

His arms felt sore. Taking the full force of a Saber’s swing for what felt like an hour was taxing on his body and his mind the more he endured her cries.

In the end…

It was her sword that broke however…

“I…know someone that clung to her wish just like you do…”, Crio remembered the blonde king. A small laugh escaped his lips as he imagined how she waited at her master’s table for the food to be done. That frustration he saw that night never returned.

“She fought hard against all odds, no matter what hand fate dealt her. All for the sake of what she tried to save even after her former life was over.”.

The sight of a full Emiya table eased his mind, luring him away for a second from the thought that he was now at war.

Archer and Shirou glaring again at another as he picked on Shirou’s cooking skills.

Cu laughing his heart as he snatched a shrimp away from the furious Artoria.

Medusa, Rin and Sakura in a deep conversation.

Crio had to take a deep breath to bring himself back to the present. They were not here. None of them.

He was a master now…

…with a beautiful Archer behind him, gripping her left arm and awaiting his words to continue.

The hands on his Katana clenched down hard. The cloth wrapped around the handle nearly tore into his palm.

“It is fine to cling to a wish…When you have nothing left in life, walking down a lane as even the stars that guided you once turn black…”.

Held skyward, the sun reflected on the black steel…

Slowly she felt her breath fade.

“…then you only have two choices: You follow the lone star that guides you, be it your wish or a person…or you walk with your eyes closed, hoping for it to end…whatever it may be…”.

In that second, her ears twitched as the blade sliced the very air in half.

Cleanly cut, he threw the unproportionate half away, quickly raising his sword again for second slash further up. The words he spoke reminded Atalanta of her own life, striking deeper than she thought that blade could. “You are right…It is everything I feel I have left. I never had anything else aside from my oath I…barely kept through racing…”, she answered calmly, watching his blade cut again. Palm clenched over her chest…

“…Walk with your eyes closed…hoping for it to end…huh?”.

…she unconsciously recited his words, feeling something much, much deeper to be hidden in them.

Sword stabbed into the ground, Crio lifted the log that was nearly as thick as truck tire onto his shoulders with ease. “Where do you want it?”.

“Want what?”.

Finding him standing next to her, he gestured with his eyes. “Your seat. Where should I put your seat?”.

“Oh! I thought you were preparing firewood.”.

“That comes after. First we make our camp more comfortable. So, where do you want it?”.

She stepped back a bit, gesturing to the edge of the lake. “That here is fine. Then I can dip my feet into the water.”. “As you wish.”, he answered her ‘order’. Making sure there was no stone in the way, pressing against the edges for good measure that it wasn’t shifting, Crio held his hand out to try if the seat was acceptable. And once she leaned on her hands and relaxed, he returned to his craft with a smile on his face at the satisfied breath of relief out of her.

Hearing a few clicks behind him, he took a glance over his shoulder…

Adam apple bobbing, a drop of sweat forming, he fought the blush spreading on his face.

Instead of just making them disappear, Atalanta had reached underneath her skirt to unhook her boots, slowly taking them off her long legs.

Beautiful, long legs. Though having raced much, her thighs showed no signs of muscles.

The moment she noticed his gaze, his body flinching when she turned her head to him, he swiftly pulled the Katana out and gazed at the wood, feverishly shaking his head. ‘Damnit! Don’t ogle her like that!’, he gave himself mental slaps.

For a second, he lost all feeling in his body.

‘I…ogled Atalanta? I…gazed at a woman?’.

All while his heart was drumming in his ears under the watchful gaze of the huntress gazing at his back, her head leaning on her palms and still with one boot on. A smile on her lips, half open eyes mustering his back, she giggled softly to herself. ‘Idiot. I feel it instantly when a man is gazing at me. Maybe what Rider said before wasn’t too far off.’, she thought, before returning to her other boot. ‘It took a bit for me to realize what the youngster meant. So…legs, huh? Looks like I meet Crio’s preferences…’.

Slowly dipping her feet into the cold wet, she let out a sigh of relief.

Throwing her head back, Atalanta smiled up at a cloud travelling by itself.

“Ahhh…This feels good…”, she enjoyed the peace and quiet.

Its shadow began to obscure the sun…

…contorting her relaxed expression into one of uncertain. The woman in the lake glared at her, reprimanding her.

‘…What am I doing…’.

Her lips pursed. Grinding her teeth harshly, she gazed into the scowl of the woman gazing at her from the water.

A white petal fell, distorting the beautiful face.

‘I am here to battle. I am an Archer…I am his Servant, him my master. I need to stay focused…And…even in the off-chance that a man like him had interest, pure interest in my soul and not my body, my vow would get in the way at some point. That and…’.

The left hand that pressed on her chest clenched slowly. Tighter and tighter, she nearly felt the claws dig into her palm.

‘To him…I might just be…a walking corpse…Not a woman…’.

A horrible thought she quickly wanted to forget.

That what he saw whenever he gazed at her, what he imagined in the depths of his mind…

…was a woman whose skin was rotting away, an eyehole empty…

Her throat clenched in fear of the disgusting sight of herself.

It was but a brief phantasm she quickly shook out of her head. ‘What am I thinking? He was overjoyed to see me! He…’.

Before she knew it, frustration covered her face in the form of her palms, unable to gaze into her own reflection. ‘I don’t even know what is going on anymore…Those were mere hours that we know each other, yet I feel close to him than anyone else in my life aside from Medea. This could never be. A Servant falling for her master…the chaste huntress for a male…and…’.

“Tch…Maybe a black coat wasn’t the smartest choice today…”.

Crio’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

Taking off his coat when he felt the heat of the sun become a bit too much, Crio laid it carefully onto grass to make sure the box wasn’t damaged, starting to unbutton his shirt.

With a tilt of her head, Atalanta observed in silence, between the crack in her fingers…

A sharp gasp, filled with horror, escaped her lips…

Breathless she stared as if the Hydra reared its ugly head out of the water…

Torn apart…

That was how Crio looked in her eyes….

Scars wherever her eyes wandered over this steeled body.

Slashes and cuts, large and small all over his arms and back, from his torso up to even the back of his neck. His arms were just as covered.

…and one abominable one running from his right shoulder down to his left waist.

It was gargantuan in size. The others seemed more like mosquito bites in comparison.

That was no normal sword that could have done this. Atalanta knew that from gifting it her shaken gaze.

“Crio…what is that?!”.

Unshaken by her near breathless tone, his eyes closed. His left hand travelled over his chest to his right shoulder. It was a tone he heard often whenever he was gazed upon. Softly his lips created a tunnel to allow his breath to leave. “Let’s say…it is a ‘present’ of someone…”, he answered, not able to glance over his shoulder at the moment.

Not with those shadows that held him on a leash flashing in his mind.

Two being the ones that tore him away from that crying woman he still heard weeping in for him in his nightmares.

Hatefully squinting his eyes, he finished. “That…and a meeting with a Berserker.”.

Atalanta’s wide eyes closed swifter than he could answer. Wild her heart was biting, loud and painful. It answered for the sharp gasp she had to swallow. Cracking her eyes open, she gazed again at the painful sight. “The Berserker…was that one in the war you were in before?”.

His blade hovered again, searching for the proper place to cut.

But in his black blade he saw the bestial grimace of Greece’s greatest legend lifting his jagged axeblade. The blood red eyes were focused on the greek in front of him, the blade coming down as a hammer by gods of olympos himself with a violent, bestial roar.

He was faster than Crio had expected despite the massive size.

The pain he felt when the blade crashed into the same scar he bore for the entirety of his life, spread from his very core to his entire body. It numbed his entire body as the jolt coursed through him.

It made his blood run cold even today.

Artoria and Shirou had been safe, able to defeat Illya’s Berserker by the brink of their teeth with a copy of Artoria’s Caliburn while Crio held the Berserker back.

The moment he put an arm on both of their shoulders, giving them a pat on the back and wishing to tell them that it was a job well done for defeating one of Greece’s most famous legends…

…Shirou and Artoria screamed his name in horror as he fell forward when the pain made his mind slip.

“…Partly. It is worse now than it was before because Berserker tore it completely open.”.

Immediately after the war, Medea had been taking care of Crio. Like a brother, like family, she had taken care of him when the pain of the scar was still too much. At night when it reopened, Medea would wipe his back as he clenched his teeth.

_“I am done soon. Just a bit more…I wish Asclepius was here…”._

_“I read about him. Was he that good-TCH!”._

_“Sighnomi! Did press down too hard?”._

_“Forget it…It’s okay…I had worse.”._

_“Don’t say that! If it hurts, say something, chaso (idiot).”._

_“I am not a child and not your little brother, Medea.”._

_“…That doesn’t mean I cannot care for you like one…”._

_“…”._

_“Don’t look so startled. You tried to protect us from that golden prick…and you didn’t even know me at that time, only that I heard how you mumbled to yourself on the harbor, speaking about my old friend. You help me every time when I am nervous about my next step with Souichirou-sama…”._

He still remembered the warmth he felt when the Caster’s arm slung around him, kissing the back of his head. It was a feeling he long forgot, his throat drying with words he never heard again.

He forgot what it felt like to have someone caring for him in that magnitude, making him feel as if standing under a waterfall.

_“I love you like family, Crio. No. More than my real family was to me. People are scared of you because of your scars, but they are only proof for what you tried to protect. I know someone. I know a woman…who would be so happy to meet you. That is why, when the time comes, I want you to be around me to see how I grasp onto Souichirou’s hand in a white dress. You will promise me, right? That you take better care of yourself from now on…for me at least?”._

And that always returned with the memory of Souichirou wishing for Crio to hold onto Medea’s ring as a promise to return.

_“She wants you to be the ring bearer on our wedding. This is Caster’s biggest moment. I want this to be a day she will remember fondly of. So no matter what happens, Crio, do not die. Return to us alive and well.”._

His warm blue gaze, longing for his family, wandered towards the coat…

…the sun shining on the a glimpse of the blue box that held Medea’s wedding ring…

While Crio took a deep breath, calm as the waves on Arcadia’s beach, Atalanta was sure she saw him wipe a tear away, or at least rub his eyes. He fought to hold something in, she felt that. The connection between Master and Servant can either be brittle, or strong. And she felt hers with Crio to be stronger than anything.

“Well, there is no need to worry. That thing won’t hinder me. I will fight with you and make sure to not hold you back. So don’t think about this thing on my back any longer.”.

Listening to him cut the wood again, she pulled her legs up to the log, resting her head on her knees. Silently she gazed at her curled toes. “If you say so…”, she worried.

But she couldn’t stop gazing at the scar, and that sight of what she thought was him on the verge of crying.

Nightfall soon came.

The rest of the day had come and gone as they set up the camp.

Both seats next to each other, the gazed into the fire. Warm and under control, it provided light and safety under the shroud of darkness. Crio was rather curious, staring at the apples getting roasted. “Can’t believe I am saying this, but I never had a roasted apple before.”. Atalanta smiled silently at him, her legs pulled to her as he rested his head on his fist. “You’ll like it. Trust me. Though, it is unfortunate we couldn’t get a tent.”.

“Yes…we can be lucky we do not have to worry about rain tonight. We’ll take that as the first task tomorrow. That and…”.

She felt his gaze wander over her again.

From her delicate, small toes moving ever so slightly, up to her ears and drawn into her captivating smile that made his heart nearly jump out of his throat. The way he would try to look away from her with a slight blush made Atalanta wish to tease him more. “You look beautiful in that dress, but if we are outside, you should wear normal clothes. We are visiting a boutique tomorrow first.”. “Okay…I will follow wherever you go.”, she responded, enjoying his awkwardness.

Slowly turning his head back, he found her not having dislodged her gaze from him.

Warm…

That was the only way he could describe her eyes under the flicker of the flame. A meadow of the purest shade of green he ever saw, waving under the summer breeze racing alongside her. Her long eyelashes batted slowly at him when the blush came again.

_Don’t look away._

That was what they told.

Suppressing his urge, he pressed his thumbs together, not tearing his gaze away.

Not this time.

Being able to gaze at her, herself not shifting away or anything, he found his mind slowly being put at ease. The warm breeze dashing by felt like it came straight from her soul.

And before he realized it, he began to smile himself.

That familiar warm look on him Atalanta was greeted with when she gave him her identity, she was gifted again. It was inexplainable, but she yearned to see that at ease expression on his face. She wanted him to smile like that, for his sapphire eyes to remind her of the beauty of the sea.

Her best time in her life.

Listening to Orpheus’ singing for the crew. Ceanis and Heracles competing with Jason cheering for him. Castor protecting his sister again from someone making a move on her. Medea clinging close to Jason again. Asclepius sighing at the meager cut someone got from a splinter.

And Atalanta herself, she was sitting on a crate next to Peleus as they laughed and smiled, being told that he would tell his son all about her.

That time she didn’t have to worry about suitors. It was the only time she was truly free of everything and could pursue her wish for a better world for children. There were no shackles on her soul drifting on the sea.

_“Atalanta, you said you harbored a wish, right?”._

_“Where comes your interest from, Peleus?”._

_“I overheard Medea speak of it briefly. Something beautiful. Do you care to tell your comrade?”._

_“Heh. Normally I wouldn’t dare say it in front of a man…but I guess you are an exception.”._

_“I am honored. So, tell me. What has the chaste huntress of Arcadia in her gaze?”._

_“I…want to create a world where children will be loved. No one should suffer like I did ever again.”._

That night she spoke with Peleus at a campfire reminded her much of how she and Crio sat together at this moment. She had expected him to laugh, but Achilles’ father never did. She remembered staring into those pale brown eyes, sharp in battle when he protected her with his shield, growing soft with a smile framed by violet bangs and small stubble.

_“A truly beautiful wish befitting a beautiful huntress like you.”._

_“Are you making a move on me?”._

_“?! I apologize! I-“._

_“Hahaha! At ease, Peleus! I am just messing with you. But I appreciate it.”._

_“*Sigh* You would send me to Hades if I did that, gods, Atalanta.”._

_“I would have if you were just any male!”._

_“Again, I am honored. Say, did you ever hear of Polediatirisi, the warrior home?”._

_“I heard about them, though the tales are vague and differ…An island shrouded in fog in the far corners of the Aegean sea. Shooting out of the fog like thrown spears, they strike and wreak havoc. They are warmongers, correct?”._

_“Ah, the typical tale that the tyrants spread. Far from it.”._

_“Really? That is what do you think, oh king?”._

_“Back in the day, it was after I married Thetis and before I began my travel on the Argo, I was once attacked on a travelling ship. Pirates, having killed all aboard, the entire crew. I fought for as long as I could, but the sheer numbers were too much. I was wounded and beaten and my throat was nearly slit open.”._

_“That sounds horrifying…How did you survive?”._

_“I prayed…I thought of my beloved Thetis…and how she was pregnant with my children…I begged for something or someone to help me, that she is not alone when she conceived…And that moment an arrow show through the head of the bearded malakes that held the dagger at my throat. Barely aware of what happened, two ships appeared at the side and warriors of all kinds jumped onto ship. Their battle styles were like beautiful dances as they avoided the ungraceful, sluggish movements of the pirates, before cutting them open like fish.”._

_“That…sounds nothing like any sell sword in Hellatha.”._

_“We do not. They were one of a kind, a terrifying storm of petals, and when the pirate captain jumped off the boat, the leader of these mercenaries threw a spear right through his heart, making him food for Poseidon’s pets. I will never forget that feeling I had when that man gazed at me.”._

_“Why so?”._

_“A man with a mane of a lion, white as the moon, and eyes fierce with color of the deep ocean. At first, I thought I was in front of the king of beasts, only to find myself being pulled to the depths, surrounded by a swarm of Carcharias, not even having seen how the fins of a great white had cut the water’s surface. But then, he took my hand with such gentleness, asked for my name and where I wanted to go. I only asked of him to bring me to my wife, begging him. He asked me why I wanted to go see her so badly. I told him she was pregnant and he smiled, ordering his crew to take the fastest route available. When I heard he was from Polediatirisi, I feared for my life at first.”._

_“I can imagine. Some tales said that a Spartan looked like a kitten next to a Polediatirisian. Brutal warriors, fighting without consideration, not knowing the concept of honor. Pfe. I am not much different myself. I do not fight for glory. My life revolved about hunting and be hunted. I watched how the times passed, how the animals found their mates, new life sprang from them, until the mother deer would be torn apart by a mountain lion. The weak devour the strong. The rules of nature. Only children I wish to protect, even if I had to do so alone.”._

_“And that was what I noticed first when I was brought on their ship.”._

_“What exactly?”._

_“…There were countless orphans on board that had been treated. From what I heard from the wails of a child being pressed against the breast of a female soldier to comfort her, their village was caught between warring factions.”._

_“By the gods! They…saved the children?”._

_“As many as they could. When I told them that for their good deed they would go to Elysium, the captain snorted at me.”._

_“Why? Elysium is what all warriors strive to go to…”._

_“Not them. ‘We live to die on the battlefield, our bodies protecting the lights that will be Hellatha’s future. If our kills are dishonorable, we pay no mind to it. We kill from the shadows and torture those undeserving of a quick death. We will willingly walk to hell, watch over Chronos caught in Tartarus, if that alone will save these small lights…’. That is what he said to me that night…”._

_“…Looks like…I am not completely alone with my wish…Too bad I never got to meet them…”._

_“If you keep your wish up, you will one day…”._

_“Can you tell me again what their captain looked like?”._

_“Fierce blue eyes, a mane of pure white as his hair. You will think of a lion before feeling yourself drowning when he looks at you…before he offers you his hand with a small and those sharks you see are just nudging you with their snouts, pushing you to the surface…Who knows. Maybe you will find the love of your life there!”._

_“…Don’t jest with me about love, Peleus…”._

_“…I didn’t mean to get underneath your skin, Atalanta. Apologies. I just…noticed that you seem so horribly lonely.”._

_“That is the life I chose. Look all around us. This world is filled with males wishing for war, wishing to fight, claim women like they are trophies. I may have an affinity with nature and lady Artemis, but I am not some pelt to be hung on a wall; A woman to impregnate and just leave at home while these bastardes go and conquer another female in bed…”._

_“I apologize. I shouldn’t have brought that topic up had I known it causes you that much heartache. I am just worried about you.”._

_“The only man that would fit at my side…he would need to love me for who I am, Peleus. Who would need to accept my vow of chastity, my wish to save children, my inability to live in big settlements, as well as my ruthless self. Show me a man that can accept me for who I am.”._

As the scent of the apples grew more intense, Atalanta was pulled out of her thoughts. “Alright. They are done.”, she grasped one branches an apple hung on, holding it under Crio’s nose. “Here. Give it a try.”. Taking the branch out of her hand, Crio inhaled the scent while Atalanta took the other. She adored how curious he was, slowly blowing air between his lips to cool down the fruit a bit.

When his narrowed eyes lit up with the first bite, she found it all to be worth it as he took a second bite, then a third, enjoying each bit.

Every single one with lips curled up.

Taking a bit out of her own, she found herself staring at his white mane, flowing from the silent wind brushing by them. Focused on the waving of his hair, Atalanta was reminded of her friend’s words. “White hair like the mane of a lion…fierce blue eyes…”.

A thought spread inside her mind, a hunch. Her absent-minded gaze felt burning into the side of his head, Crio worried. “Is everything alright?”. Torn out of her trance, Atalanta swiftly shook her head, keeping her bright look. “Everything is fine. You seem to like roasted apples, right?”.

“I like apples in general, but I never had a roasted one before.”.

“I am glad! Looks like we have something in common there! But…Crio?”.

“Hm?”.

Her eyes traced at a scar rising up from the collar bone to his neck. Again, that abominable wound on his back began to taint her mind. Feeling her heart ache, she worried again. “That wound of yours. That scar…is it hurting?”. His teeth were already on the red fruit again before the question came out of nowhere. Softening his expression, he nodded to relieve her of her worry. “It is fine. I have a good friend that takes care of me. I’d say, without her, it would probably be unbearable at times.”. “I see…Then I will give my silent thanks to whoever that goodhearted woman is.”.

Crio had to chew on his cheek, gazing back into the flame.

His hand wandered to the chest pocket of his coat again, clutching the box holding Medea’s wedding ring. ‘I want to tell you…”.

His eyes screamed to speak. His heart howled, pounding in his ears and punching against his lips to finally tell her of Medea.

Speak.

Tell her of Medea.

Tell her that there is a friend that wants to see her again.

The voice began to grow unbearable, but he wished for Atalanta to be able to focus on the hunt ahead of them.

“Crio…Who was the Berserker that reopened your wound? Was it Medusa?”.

His entire body twisted violently inside.

Atalanta did not dare look at him at that moment. She was fully fixated on the warm campfire, remembering well what he told the grail had wrought in another war. “Was it the gorgon who did this to you? If that is the case…”, she spoke calmly, clenching her hand tightly.

The very thought of the beast in her mind, the woman with the snake hair hunting her master, fueled anger she barely felt before. It was a nightmarish imagination that would make anyone freeze, but not her.

The flames in front of her eyes began to turn into snakes, disappearing with the glare she unleashed in silent rage.

“…I am going to hunt her down…”.

“No. It wasn’t her.”, Crio swiftly interjected with a harsh tone she never heard being directed towards her in the last hours. Shock spread on her face when faced with the same dark look that was on his face when he stared at Penthesilea. Crio bit his lip. ‘Why does everyone think Medusa is a monster?!’. His dearest friend, the Rider at home that woke him up whenever he slept at Shirou’s home, was a gentle, sophisticated woman. She was working hard to earn her place and not be seen as a freeloader, loved reading books and sometimes loved to tease Shirou for his relation to Sakura and Crio simply because they were greek. That and his shock of seeing a woman instead of a scaled abomination. Hearing someone speak ill about her, made Crio’s throat burn with anger.

But Atalanta didn’t know better. She was an old heroic spirit, having only heard the tales of the beast, ever having seen Medusa’s long hair that flowed with her swift, precise movements.

“Medusa…would never do that. So never assume that again…”.

“I…understand. But if it wasn’t her, who was it then?”.

While he was taking a deep breath, Atalanta curiously watched his muscles relax. All the time her mind was around his protective reaction. ‘That felt more like he was defending her instead of outright telling me that it was someone else.’, she noted. More and more she began to wonder. ‘Medusa…Crio, what are you? Why do you know Medusa and…why do you resemble the man Peleus mentioned so much?’.

“Listen. The one who gave me that scar…was…”.

The sound of a greek song threw a wedge between their talk. The voice was revolved about a woman who disregarded the man that betrayed her, telling him to get lost.

His hand wandered into his pocket and with a silent glare he read the nickname he wrote for the priest, not even bothering writing Shirou down to differentiate him from the good-natured boy that spoiled his Saber too much. Atalanta watched carefully how he pressed upon the green button on the screen and wiped, memorizing it instantly. “Shirou? What is i-“.

_“No time for long explanations. I need you to head to a certain location.”._

“What has you so on edge? Is it the Blacks?”, Crio wondered, kicking a leg over the other and crossing his arm over the other.

_“It is Berserker and Rider.”._

The way Crio rolled his eyes, Atalanta expected something stupid to have happened. ‘Barely a day has passed and Peleus’ son has messed something up. True to his legend, the brat.’, she thought silently, shooting Crio a look that said she expected nothing else. ‘How is Achilles so drastically different from his father?’. With a disappointed, halfhearted look of wonder and a risen eyebrow, she listened to the conversation.

“Alright, what did they do? Has he got her to snap?”.

_“Actually…”._

Atalanta’s blood ran cold the second Crio’s eyes snapped open.

_“Rider has followed Berserker all the way to enemy territory without an order. I can only imagine his presence had gotten on her nerves and so she wished to relieve herself with exercise.”._

“And turning someone into paste the same moment.”, Crio felt a headache coming, rubbing his throbbing temple. “So, what do you want us to do? Pursue them and get them back?”.

_“Actually…”._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Argonauts are banding together in FGO. 
> 
> I love to see how the group is getting bigger and bigger with Caenis and the Dioscuri having been the most recent additions. In this one I wanted to dive a bit deeper into her past with with Peleus. In the Anime he was not even mentioned once, not explaining at all where Achilles got his adoration for Atalanta from. I do not know about the original novel, but I do not trust any source of info, because they came from fantranslations and they can often go completely wrong. But in FGO, Inheritance of Glory specifically, he asks her first thing if she was THE Atalanta his old man has been talking about.
> 
> Peleus we will probably never get to see. For that, unfortunately, his son's tale is much, much more well known. 
> 
> Atalanta herself has a soft spot for Peleus, having fought him in a wrestling match to honor the death of a king. So I always imagined these two being close, sitting beside another on a campfire as the group would gather to drink, especially considering that he told his son so much about her. It is sad to think he barely has a chance left, considering that so many Argonauts and even his son outright outshine him.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter and I'd gladly read a comment :) Next chapter is going to be an exciting one...


	10. Black fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Berserker and Rider of Red had headed into the enemy territory.
> 
> Asked to observe the coming conflict with the Blacks, Crio and Atalanta were sent after them, being told to abandon Penthesilea should she run out too far. With spite and doubt, Crio chased together with Atalanta.
> 
> But once Red and Black meet...
> 
> ...a black fog crawls out of the past. A time long lost by a king.

The moon was the only light source on the path into the woods. Silently the pair lions jumped from branch to branch, every step not making a single sound.

“Cannot believe these idiots.”.

Grunting at the recklessness, Crio gritted his teeth. Barely a day has he been a master and already someone of their own faction is causing trouble. He had feared during the first meeting already that things would be going horribly wrong with Berserker and Rider being greek heroic spirits.

Greek temper was one thing. Their history, another. Every time his premonitions turn out to be a headshot, he curses whoever turns his thoughts into reality.

Atalanta at his side pursed her lips strongly. She had wished for the night to pass without an incident that tarnished his view. It should have been a simple night of getting to know another better, speak of potential strengths, weaknesses and learn from another to be ready for combat.

And now these two were causing trouble already.

Penthesilea had walked out into the black faction’s territory on her own. Or at least she thought that way. In the end, Achilles strolled along in order to keep her safe, much to her displeasure.

A slight groan escaped Atalanta. “I had the feeling of something going wrong, though more from Peleus’ child than the queen.”.

“How so?”.

“Rider is nothing like his father.”, Atalanta ruthlessly voiced her mind. “Peleus was a dear friend to me. A good man that loved his wife and unborn child, even if far away on a journey. We had pleasant talks and he had a good head on his shoulders. Getting a surprise attack on him was a fruitless task and by the end of it, the cold tip of his spear was at your throat. Aside from his eyes, Rider got nothing from his father.”. “Children not always follow their parent’s footsteps, At-“.

He quickly bit on his tongue. By accident her true name was nearly spilled out. It had become custom since their meeting to not see another like usual mages view a master and servant. They were more at ease because they were so similar. But revealing the true name of a Servant bears a huge danger.

If they had a weakness that could be exploited, for example Achilles’s heel, that would be their undoing, if the enemy caught wind of it.

Poison, fire, headaches.

Any little hint and the fight was as good as over.

“Sorry, Archer. I-“.

“No, it is fine.”, she amused herself with lowered eyebrows. “That is probably my fault as well. You did not bite your tongue too hard?”. “No, no. I am fine.”, he lied, spitting into his hand the moment she sped up a bit to take the lead. ‘Shit. I bit down harder than expected…’. No blood, but it hurt like hell.

Gnashing her teeth, the Berserker of Red clenched jabbed her nails into her palms. Her steps grew faster and faster to get away, but the ones behind her kept up with ease. That sound alone caused her massive headaches.

“Stop following me already.”.

“Sorry, no can do here, Berserker.”.

His pale-brown gaze wandered around the eerie silent forest.

“We are in enemy territory now and I cannot leave you alone. What happens if you would get ambushed all by yourself?”.

“I would rather be, than have you around me. And you know what you will receive if you think about me as a delicate woman only one more time.”.

“I don’t. I know how strong you are. But I just like to be around you.”.

“Well, when it comes to me, you could be rotting in Hades for all I care.”.

Walking into a small clearing, she glanced behind her at the Rider of Red having his hand on his waist and analyzing their surroundings. “Why did you want to come here? You are not a Berserker in the normal sense of the word. Rushing into battle is our style, but you wouldn’t just walk into enemy territory.”. “Stress relief, and to get away from you.”, she growled back. All of this, the entire walk was so she’d get time away from the Rider of Red, the hero that killed her in her former life. Day after day she was forced to see him and her stomach was twisting every time. “And if I can kill the one or other warrior amidst this, then the time was well spent.”.

“Then let me at least help you.”.

Her white hair, a curtain that lifted when she turned on her heel, opened the burning sun hiding behind the strands. His adam apple bobbed the moment he was once more met with her fierce gaze. Ever since their summoning, he stuck to her like glue. What seemed to others as the reckless play of a brat annoying a girl, was him hoping for an opportunity.

An opportunity to apologize.

But like a protective shield, he was always faced with her glare. The queen never lowered her guard around him. Clenching her teeth, she let forth a hateful growl. “Just stay silent already! I do not need your-“.

A loud crash behind her created a thick cloud of dust.

Achilles whistled a bit, unimpressed as the golem rose from the soil with its right arm pulled back. It was gigantic, easily towering over Penthesilea and Achilles. One punch of the monstrosity, and a human would be nothing but a bloody stain on the soil. “Oh. So those are their foot soldiers, huh?”, he muttered unenthusiastic.

A violet gleam from what appeared to be its core, the monster swung down with all force of its heavy body.

Calmly Penthesilea answered the attack, raising her palm towards the sky.

A small shockwave brushed by the impressed Rider.

Holding the strike in place, Penthesilea glanced over her shoulder. A burning orange gaze fixated on the attacker. If the thing had a heart, it would tremble in fear.

Dashing backwards, she closed the distance between herself and the Golem’s body. With a swift turn, she delivered an uppercut that shredded the manmade monstrosity, returning to a pile of rocks and mud.

Rolling her shoulder, she walked over the remains of her fallen enemy, kicking a pebble away with a displeased grunt. “So we have already been found. But if that is all they can muster, I hope their Servants are made of sturdier stuff than this.”, she muttered disappointed. Achilles gazed impressed with a smile. “Nice punch, Berserker.”. “I will punch your jaw off if you keep speaking to me in that familiar manner, Rider.”, was the reward for being nice to her.

And just as swiftly the smile vanished. With a sigh, his spear resting on his shoulders, he silently followed the queen of the amazons. ‘I am not even allowed to compliment her.’. His longing gaze followed every wave of these beautiful white strands that shined underneath the moon as she walked off. ‘There is so much I want to tell you, but you do not allow me a single word, Penthesilea…’.

They didn’t notice that they were being followed.

“She is definitely strong.”.

Up on the branches, Crio leaned with his back against a tree, arms crossed and mood sour.

“Berserker…”, Atalanta muttered, never taking her eyes off of the irritated queen. “Her physical strength is the real deal. She is no doubt a warrior of high caliber. I can see her taking care of the youngster.”.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he glanced towards Atalanta kneeling beside him, tapping the bridge of her nose with her index finger. “Idiots…I feared that this would happen.”. “Rider pissing Berserker off, or Berserker unable to keep waiting for a battle?”, Crio gave a half-hearted joke. “One way or another, we are now in this mess.”. Atalanta couldn’t help a weary smile. ‘He is just as bad at jokes as I am.’.

If they were not in enemy territory and those weren’t their allies down there, he would have just preferred to stay in camp with Atalanta or let them run into their enemies on purpose. But as it stood, those were their comrades.

Glancing up at Crio, she found him nodding towards her, continuing their pursuit.

Following the greek pair on the ground, the one in the branches followed silently with the suppleness of great cats prowling in the shadows. Unseen, unheard, phantasms to the eyes of others, disappearing as swiftly as they came.

The orders were clear: Follow from the shadows, observe and find out even the slightest hints about the black faction.

If Berserker was lost, leave her.

‘Leave her to die…’.

His right hand clenched, Crio swallowed his anger. Despite hearing her complain louder and louder that the Rider should stay back, Crio didn’t agree with the Priest’s view. ‘Penthesilea is not a disposable tool. A Servant she may be, but she is just as human as him and I. Damn those Kotomines!’, he cursed the name.

No matter if the hair was white or black.

If their expression were a gentle smile or a gleeful look at someone’s pain.

‘One thing they all have, is see people as their tools. First that bastard with Gilgamesh, then this one here. I wouldn’t be surprised if Assassin was a Babylonian as well.’.

Atalanta bore a proud look at her master keeping up with her speed with ease, yet managing to keep himself silent. ‘He is no amateur when it comes to infiltration it seems.’. Pursing her lips, she gazed down below. ‘Right in the enemy territory, and he is still calm. Crio is doing well to keep up with me as well. But with Penthesilea’s nature, a fight will be happening sooner than we think. We won’t be leaving without a battle.’.

Battles between Servants are nothing to be compared to a scuffle on the streets. Their strength, speed and movements are inhuman to the eye. A master was not supposed to be in the middle of it.

And that was what she feared.

Atalanta’s instincts repeated over and over; Crio would jump in.

Hearing him fight a Berserker once didn’t help ease her worries. It was only fuel to that fire burning in her breast.

“Crio, can you promise me something?”.

Pulled out of his thoughts, both back into hiding in the shadows the branches cast over them, Atalanta seemed more than just torn. “When the battles begin…please hide.”. She found herself at the end of a glare the second her words spoken. Worry was met with what she thought of him being ridiculed, unworthy to be at her side in battle. She swiftly shook her head. “No, it isn’t like that! I am not doubting you to not know what you are doing. But never forget this. Crio, you are my master. I do not doubt your prowess in battle.”, Atalanta attempted her best to get her words through the skull of her master. His scowl never faded however. Every word she threw at him seemed to reflect. Her eyes wandered to the scar on his neck. “Those wounds are more than enough proof to me. I realize you are strong. But if you were in a holy grail war already, you know what happens when you get yourself killed. Please…just-“.

“I can’t.”.

The words alone felt as if they pinned her to tree whose branches they were standing on. Ignoring the bickering Servants below, Atalanta turned her entire attention to her stubborn master. “Crio! I am not jesting here!”. “Neither am I.”, Crio responded. His tone unusually cold, made Atalanta shiver in her boots.

The warmth was gone.

Grasping the scabbard of his Katana dangling by his waist, he showed clearly how much weight his words had.

He was lured into it again and again.

The feeling of battle about to erupt was like a scent of raw meat to a starving beast. That was how he was trained ever since he was washed ashore in Arcadia.

He was only waiting.

Once the smell of clashing iron was in the air, his hand would reach out from the shadows, dragging his victims into the unknown, screaming and flailing before they would see his blade emerge from their front.

Atalanta observed his eyes lock on to Penthesilea looking for her next opponent. It worried her more than she expected it would. ‘I know that gaze.’, she feared, glancing down at the silver haired queen. ‘That is the gaze of a stalking beast hiding in the tall grass. He is merely waiting.’.

If anyone would draw the other Servants to them, it would be the violent queen down there trying to get away from their Rider.

Atalanta didn’t like the tension that swarmed around him. An approaching storm, the blue eyes that were once a calm ocean, turned into raging waves, violently clashing against a cliff. They were drowning the last bit of feeling she saw inside him.

No matter what she would say, Crio wouldn’t listen to reason. And she feared that. “Crio? Please, listen to me.”. He was too focused to notice his own Servant anymore. “Crio!”.

His eyes were but an ocean without life in it, yet hiding something terrible in its depths. Something that should be awakened.

‘He is not even recognizing my voice anymore!’.

Gnawing on her lips as they followed Penthesilea and Achilles, Atalanta’s mind rattled.

‘He is going to jump in. I know that. What can I do to make him stay behind me?’.

Any way possible seemed blocked once she barely glanced into his unnerving stare again. He was way too calm about this. Too sure of wishing to be a part of it. A beast prowling in the shadows.

And that would risk her participation in this war. Her wish was everything to her. As much as she liked Crio, he was still her master.

Her ticket to enter this battle. Once his flame goes out, her battle is over if she doesn’t find another master quickly to bound herself with. And knowing her luck, that one would be rotten to the core.

Atalanta hated that very glimpse of a thought of losing him, squeezing her heart.

But Crio at this point was a sheathed sword ready to be drawn and splatter the first drops blood, before its victim would even realize their throat was cut. If she couldn’t get his attention to her, that fear could become a reality really soon.

‘If he doesn’t listen to his Servant then maybe...’.

Talking as a Servant earned her no ear.

Carefully her right hand lifted. Barely inches separated hers from his own clenching the scabbard in preparation to draw.

‘Maybe…he will listen to a woman…’.

A shudder travelled all across his skin, snapping him out of his trance.

Holding his breath, he felt her delicate hand rub over the back of his own. A soothing touch, a thumb rubbing over his hand to suppress his violent urge.

“You…are my master…”.

Calm and composed, Atalanta stroked over the back of his hand, ignoring the shaky breath he took in. She didn’t know if it was just because it was her own touch or if he never felt such a gesture to begin with, but he at least reacted to her voice again. “When you die, I will disappear. I will never remember what happened and…will probably receive another fool that called upon me with a piece of my dress.”, she whispered to his ear, her voice bearing a heavy weight she threw over his shoulders. Heavier and heavier his arms got, yet he still kept his grip on the scabbard, unable to pry his hands off…

…until the other hand of his Servant slid underneath it. Separating him from his weapon vanishing in sparks, she smiled softly up at him.

Despite the gloves, her hands had a distinctive warmth he could find no comparison to. A warm blanket came to mind, wrapped around his body. Gently cradled in both hands, Crio felt his own being lifted towards her face, his gaze unable to not follow suit. It was a fruitless fight to focus on Penthesilea.

How could he, with such gorgeous emeralds staring into his own, glowing ever so softly.

“I do not remember my previous battles…After all, I am always reset when I am being summoned. I don’t want our battle to meet a swift end. There is still so much to do. So much to experience.”.

Being unusually soft, feeling herself not used to sounding that way, she observed Crio’s chest rising with a deep breath.

He didn’t want to imagine what happened to her before. He didn’t even know if she was being serious or just playing an innocent maiden at this moment to get him to calm down.

The stories told that Atalanta was beautiful and was sought upon by many males as an adult. But she bore no interest in any men.

Meleager.

Hippomenes.

Whoever reached for her, found nothing but disinterest. But she was aware of her own appearance. Maybe she was using that knowledge at this moment.

“Crio, do you think…I’d just touch any man like that?”.

Her melodious tune snapped his string of thoughts. “Would I speak to a man like I do with you with a smile on my face?”, she asked him, closing her eyes with the softest smile.

The answer was more than obvious for him. Her tale is one of a strong, independent woman, who got proposed to over and over. It resulted in her being exhausted and spiteful of males that only spoke to her because she was of the opposite sex instead of being in awe of her prowess.

Speechless, Crio shook his head. Atalanta giggled the second she opened her eyes at his bashful look, never letting go of his hand.

“That is correct. Had you been any ordinary man, any ordinary master, I would have left you on the sidewalk and told you to stay put. If you hated my wish, laughed at it and me, dare say, make a move on me, I would have killed you without a second thought.”.

That she said without a hint of worry of him drawing his hand away. Fear of him being reluctant with having her at his side. But instead, she found his expression slowly softening to her soft tunes. Penthesilea raising her voice below was but a fleeting wind, unable to hinder Crio’s focus from Atalanta.

“But…look what we are doing right now. We bear the same wish. Our hearts beat for the same goal, every beat unified with our steps. I could confess my wish to you without a hint of fear of you ridiculing me.”, she remembered their talk before. “Even with your experience before, your doubt of the holy grail, you are still here supporting me. You could have run away, severed the contract, anything.”, Atalanta reminded him of before. “You could have just run away and forget everything that happened. Forget the priest, the grail…me. But here you are, still at my side. That proves much more than you might think; That you are entrusting your life to me like this. And I respect that.”.

It was much to unusual to have the chaste huntress, a woman doubtful of males due to countless proposals, lower her guard, even speak to him. But he forgot that she showed him much more than even Peleus saw.

She opened her heart, telling him her wish, hoping he’d understand and join her side as her master. He was able to get a glimpse barely anyone even thought to see. Even her tears she would suppress.

Of course she would be scared to death if he jumped in.

Thinking everything through, he acknowledged easily why she was so scared, striking into his chest like a dagger. ‘Right…A master is the anchor keeping the Servant in this world and mana is the chain that holds it together.’, he remembered Rin’s words.

Her remembered.

When Heracles was out to kill Artoria, Shirou jumped right into the attack. Even though he was healed and alright, Crio didn’t quite understand why the blue Saber and Archer’s master glared him down, asking him if he knocked his head against a wall too many times.

Once he was dead, Artoria was no more.

Once Crio was dead…Atalanta was no more.

Ignoring his body’s violent screams to battle, he slowly pulled his hand out of her grasp to cross his arms with a slow, conflicted sigh. Crio knew exactly that she was using his unexplainable feelings for her get him to stay back. He made it way too obvious that he had a soft spot for Atalanta. Much, much to obvious.

Hell, he was nearly crying in front of her. Neither Medusa or Medea saw him that close to tears.

Why else would Atalanta suddenly behave so gentle to a male?

“You are asking the impossible of me. I only know fighting on the front.”. “I know. Your scars prove that more than you think. But you need to remember…”, she answered calmly. His head shot into her direction the second he felt her warm breath brush over his neck, giving him goosebumps.

Faced with her up close brought his heart to race again in a pace that made him deaf to their surroundings. Neither bickering below, nor the sound of wildlife could tear his eyes away from Atalanta. She began tracing a scar right over his left eyebrow. Every stroke was tender, careful to not cause any pain.

Crio flinched slightly at her touch out of surprise.

Atalanta didn’t know what he had been through, other than that scar on his back belonging to a Berserker. Forcing a smile, she kept her voice low, careful to not give their position away. The way he shuddered a bit reminded her of a shy animal.

“You are not alone anymore. You mentioned a lone wolf, but wolves and lions live in a pack. We are two of a kind, Crio. Servant and Master. No. Even more. I feel safe with you. That is why, please…take care of yourself…”.

Words he found himself being told often.

_Take better care of yourself._

Crio found himself unable to turn his head away from her, despite his heart screaming.

Atalanta warm green eyes, turned into an astonishing amethyst.

Even here in the woods, far away from Fuyuki, Medea’s words haunted him. Medea herself haunted him.

Unconsciously his hand grasped his left chest. The box that held Medea’s promised ring protected his heart gave him comfort.

Her ring. Her heart.

It was Medea’s heart that protected him. She was gazing at him through Atalanta’s eyes, begging him to stay safe.

The way Atalanta stroked his scar with the back of her fingers relaxed his tension. His grip on his chest calmed down. “Will you promise me, Crio? Please?”, she asked once more.

Closing his eyes, Crio sighed a bit. A soft smile apologized to her, but he thought words would ease her mind more. Slowly he lifted his lips, barely able to mutter. “Alright.”. Atalanta’s eyes glinted softly, thanking him. Archer…I-“.

“Oh? You left us waiting, Servants of Black.”.

Pulling away, hoping he understood, Atalanta clenched the air at her side.

In sparks of pure green, a wonderful bow appeared in her hand. Long as she was tall, a black finish with golden markings.

Amazed Crio found himself breathless before the beautiful weapon. Everything from form to color fascinated him. Out of this world. Atalanta’s chosen weapon and symbol of her class.

Focusing down, Atalanta’s eyes had an eerie glow, piercing the darkness of the woods that the Rider was shouting into.

Easily she made out three presences.

“There they are. Three of them.”.

Crouching beside her, Crio’s own eyes gathered mana to enhance his own sight. A light blue glow emitted from his eyes in tandem with Atalanta’s emeralds.

Three knights were approaching the Berserker queen and the Rider.

One a man in black with silver armory. His white hair long and flowing, he bore a fascinating scar on his chest glowing a mysterious teal, the color of life. Experience flowed form his hardened gaze.

One looked like a young girl with long pink hair braided behind her. At first Crio tilted his head, analyzing the mana more. Oh, the shudder he felt when he realized the Servant was a male. The young man seemed more aloof and relaxed, making him seem a bit out of place among the trio.

Crio shook his head. ‘I heard of crossdressers before, so I shouldn’t be surprised to see a heroic spirit actually crossdressing as well.’, he violently shoved the Servant out of his sight. Averting his gaze, Crio focused on the one in the middle. ‘Heck, Artoria acted as if she was male her entire life as a king. And who is the next one?’.

Not even fully in his view, Crio felt an indescribable fear swallow him whole. 

Between the large, serious man and the younger one, was one clouded in darkness. His armor was covered in a black fog. The only thing able to be seen was a red glow from his visor, burning bright as if coming straight from the flames of hell. He felt by far the most dangerous out of them.

Atalanta’s eyes squinted. “Knights…all three of them. But only one of them can be Sabe-“.

“You…have got to be kidding me…”.

Atalanta ears perked up the instant at the unusual tone.

Nothing made her feel this uncomfortable as the moment she saw a drop of sweat roll down Crio’s temple.

Lips pursed, eyes wide and round. Ice felt warmer at this moment than the blood that coursed through his veins, nearly losing all feeling in his paling, knee-clutching hands.

In front of Penthesilea, Achilles, the priest and Assassin, Crio never lost his ground, never wavered. A tree that was unable to be shaken with roots deeply anchored into the earth beneath.

And yet, he seemed to tremble a bit, barely perceivable to human eyes. Atalanta’s gaze followed the string of terror that fixated Crio to the knight in black. A perfect fit to the enemy faction. ‘It is that knight that has him this shocked.’, she realized in a moment. ‘But why? We have never seen him before.’. However, the second she wanted to speak, she remembered one detail. Her shock made her body run cold.

Drowning the revelation of one of the Servants of Black by jabbing his nails into his palm, Crio’s eyebrows furrowed, making his bared teeth look like the fletching of a mad animal at a trespasser.

“What the hell…are you doing here?!”.

With every word he whispered, Atalanta grew nervous at his expression darkening more and more. The corner of his lips twitched with his growl of a mad beast. “You! Of all people to be summoned, it has to be you?!”.

Soon she would be unable to recognize the man that she opened herself to, transforming into a beast in front of her eyes, yet keeping the face of a man. Gripping his shoulder tightly, she shook him frantically. “Crio! Snap out of it! Crio!”, she begged the more he ignored her words.

Body and mind were absent, diving down the sea of nightmares.

The air felt charged when Penthesilea’s eyes locked with the one behind the visor of the Berserker of Black. Like a beast, only a faint, confused groan heard beneath the black helmet, its neck tilted to the right like a broken doll.

In her battle stance, Penthesilea revealed her weapons, her clawed gauntlets made to rend flesh from bone.

Crio lost himself to the memory rising with flames.

Penthesilea disappeared in the smoke of the parking lot.

A harrowing roar echoed in his mind.

And the knight’s mumbles turned into the howl of a mad beast, announcing heavy clashes of blades and armor, the last dance, surrounded by burning flames of regret.

_“Why…my friend?”._

A woman’s voice tore through the fire and flames.

_“You were the first of the knights of the round table! Why would you sink so low as to become Berserker-“._

She could never finish her question, interrupted by the swing of his sword.

The grieving king of blue stood against the insane knight of black.

The same knight that stood before the queen of the Amazons right at this moment.

Drops of sweat vanished. Crio’s scowl grew more and more intense.

Atalanta’s words were falling on deaf ears. Every frantic shake of his shoulder ignored, his body leaned forward.

No matter what she did, he did not listen, only focusing on the black knight.

Her patience growing thinner, worry controlling her body, her hands roughly framed Crio’s face.

The moment his gaze was forcefully dislodged, he seemed to have snapped out of a trance the moment he blinked into her unnerved expression. “Huh? At-Archer?!”, he stuttered surprised. He seemed to have forgotten that they were not alone, barely having avoided speaking her true name out into the open. A breath of relief came out of her heart. “You are back. That is good.”, she whispered, regaining her strength in her voice.

But for that, her eyes narrowed, returning her gaze to the Servant below having not moved a bit.

Embarrassed, Crio really wanted to just sink into the ground for losing his composure like that, silently clearing his dry throat. “Crio, you seem to know him. Tell me, who is that Servant? Is he their Saber?”. Fearing he’d dash off, she clenched Crio’s arm tightly. “His tension from before was returning, together with her fear the scars instilled in her soul. He didn’t need more.

He would not receive more.

That she swore.

What was supposed to be a reckon mission by using Penthesilea’s and Achilles’ bickering turned into something much more horrible. Allowing him to take a deep, silent breath, she listened attentively.

“No…he is their Berserker…”.

Holding his arm tightly, Atalanta glared at the stoic knight. “Berserker…The Berserker of Black…”, she muttered. A mildly amused smile spread on her lips. “Fitting for our enemies to have a Berserker clad in a black fog.”. Glancing at Crio’s disability to at least curl his lips, a horrible feeling washed over. ‘Wait…Berserker…’.

The wound on Crio’s back grew more vivid.

Torn open, exposing the soft flesh beneath, his back covered in his blood as he barely stood on his legs.

A horrible thought wandered over her mind. ‘That Berserker. Is he responsible for that wound on your back?!’.

Achilles grinned, gripping the spear resting on his shoulder. “Wow, I am hurt. Here we both are and you only sent three after us?”, he chuckled, tightening his grip. “I am disappointed!”. A startled swarm of crows escaped into distance to escape the dissappointment of the Rider.

Crio and Atalanta silently watched from above how things began to unfold. Twirling his lance over him, he welcomed his opponents. “My class is Rider. But do not worry. I am not going to use my chariot.”, he taunted his opponents, spear tip held towards the moon…

…pointing it down swiftly at his first target. The white-haired knight.

“I will not need it for taking you down. Is that fine with you, Berserker?”.

Penthesilea scoffed, sharpening the claws of her gauntlets. “If anything, they are mine, Rider.”, she warned, gifting him a dark look. “Do not interfere in my business.”.

While the white haired knight merely raised his sword in silent acceptance of the battle, the boy across them tilted his head, holding a large lance leaning on his shoulder. “Oh? You are the Rider of Red?”. “Yes. Who are you?”, he returned a bit unnerved. He noticed from the tone that the knight was male. Proudly the boy stuck his chest out. “I am your counterpart! The Rider of Black! Nice to meet you!”.

With a small drop of sweat on his temple, Achilles shook his head. “Don’t misunderstand me, but maybe you should get out of here.”. “Why?”, the Rider of Black returned curiously. “I am stronger than I might look.”.

“I know. You wouldn’t be a Servant if you weren’t. But it is not sitting well with me to hit a girl.”.

Penthesilea felt ready to vomit. ‘Seeing the girl before the warrior, again! I swear…one day…’.

“You think I am a girl?”.

Achilles tilted his head in wonder. “Yes. I mean you look like…Ugh…!”. The Rider felt the urge to puke the moment bad memories rose from within. ‘Oh…no…H-He is a boy…’.

Penthesilea snorted the moment shock washed over the Rider’s face. “Uh…Y-You are…”. “Looks like you have your match made, Rider.”, he had to listen to her amused laughed with a click of his tongue. The Rider across not taking lightly to the insult, answered her playfully: “You should be careful not to underestimate me. I am after all a knight just like these two. Right, Berserker?”.

More than an undistinguishable groan didn’t come out of the black knight gazing down at the Rider. With that alone however, the youngest snapped his head forward to not be at the end of the unnerving gaze.

Penthesilea was the first to respond. “So, you are their Berserker?”, she tried to get him to speak. But there was nothing. The knight stood silent as before. ‘Not even a single word. Degraded to a mere pawn that fights when asked.’. Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “I might be the other Berserker in this war, but seeing you is nothing short of insulting.”.

The air was charged as the Trio of Black and the duo of Red stared the other down. One side weary and on guard, the greeks on the red sight seemed incredibly confident.

Merely a leaf needed to fall…

…and spear and sword began to clash.

Achilles had lunged at the Saber of Black, hungry for a battle. Yet quickly blocked by the Saber’s sword, he found himself kicked away to give him distance.

Atalanta sighed atop of the branch. “Typical.”. “What exactly?”, Crio asked, watching how the Saber blocked Achilles’s numerous stabs.

True to his status, Rider’s stabs were incredibly fast. For a normal human, hard to predict. But the knight with the scar held himself well, his experience in battle allowing him to block many blows with relative ease and allow for strikes on openings, some avoided by Achilles stepping back, or blatantly blocking with the hilt of his spear.

“Rider is practically the kind of man I hated the most in my life.”, Atalanta hissed. “Fixated on battling, finding glory and heroism on the battlefield. Those are the ones that chased after me relentlessly and whom I sent to Hades.”. “I don’t think you need to worry about that, Archer. From what I gathered in that brief moment in the church, Peleus liked to tell stories about you. If anything…”, Crio chuckled a bit with a playful wink. “He might have had a small crush on you as a child.”.

If he hadn’t mentioned the term child, Atalanta would have stabbed Crio with a glare he would never have forgotten. But the very thought about a little Achilles walking up to her and holding up flowers to her brought a smile to her face. “That would have been adorable. But alas, he is Peleus’ child and too different from his father. A pity. I liked him and thought his child I would adore as my own.”. Crio smiled a bit, glancing back down. “Wait a bit. We barely know anything about them. Who knows? There might be more to him than we know. Him and…”.

From the clashing sword and spear, eyes averted of the sparks, Crio glared down towards woman’s scarlet cape waving with every clash. Penthesilea had not move a muscle since the clash begun.

“…her.”.

Penthesilea was ignoring the battle beside her completely. She knew the prowess of the man that killed her and had no interest. He wanted him to live…

…but not for something as naïve as affection.

The Rider of Black jumped a bit, lifting the heavy looking lance of his shoulder. “I guess we should move. What do you think, Berserker?”, he asked. The only reply he got was an annoyed groan, telling that the next words could be his last. Sometimes words aren’t even necessary. More so, when you partner is a Berserker.

Penthesilea watched carefully how the Rider averted his gaze briefly and wiped a bit of sweat off.

“Alright…Then I’ll just help Saber myself!”.

In a split second, the Rider of Black rushed off, heading straight into the battle for a surprise attack against his red counterpart.

Holding the Saber of Black’s strike from below by clenching his hands, Achilles grinned, turning his head behind him to see the Rider of Black lift his lance. His spear was ready to smite the glorious looking weapon away.

Before the weapons could meet, the Rider of Black croaked when a hard uppercut dug into his body.

Penthesilea clicked her tongue, swiftly pulling her fist out and sending her opponent flying into the air with a hard kick. The Rider of Black was thrown back towards their Berserker, still unmoving and gazing at his partner holding his stomach. “Holy…she is strong. Awfully strong…”, the Rider of Black wheezed. His short body was feeling every bit of force she threw in paralyzing his body.

Crio and Atalanta silently observed the curtain raising. “Archer?”, Crio asked for her attention, yet keeping his gaze on the battlefield.

“Yes, Crio?”.

“Keep your arrow ready. Berserker will go into action soon.”.

Atalanta nodded silently, pulling three arrows from green lightning. She didn’t question his intuition. With how similar they were, she trusted him to know.

Kicking the Saber of Black away, Achilles grinned slightly. “Never thought I’d have you protecting my back, Berserker.”, he whistled impressed. Penthesilea didn’t answer, silently preparing her pair of clawed gauntlets. The lack of a reaction dampened his mood. “Nothing? Not even a snark? No ‘I am not protecting you because I feel close?’.”. “If you have time to talk, concentrate on the battle, Rider. I want the see the Saber dead. And if you cannot get that done, I will do it myself.”, the queen harsh words smashed into him like a whip. With an annoyed groan, he gazed at the Saber of Black’s narrowed eyes. “Yes…I have a bit of a problem here.”. “We are on the battlefield, Rider of Red.”, the Saber responded in his focused manner. “What problems you have with your lover, you should settle outside of it.”.

While a dumb smile spread on Achilles’ face, Penthesilea’s eyes drilled into the Saber’s body with a sharp click of her tongue. ‘If Achilles doesn’t kill you, I will tear you apart for that.’. The rage inside of her burned hotter than the flames of war.

Ignoring it as best as she could, Penthesilea approached the Berserker of Black.

The Rider of Black shuddered softly as the moon behind her made Penthesilea’s shadow devour their bodies whole as she grinded her claws. “Y-You are their Berserker?”, he wheezed out, finally getting back to his feet, still having to lean on his lance. A small smirk on his lips, he taunted weakly, earning only spite. “You are not as much of a woman as you look. Geez. You have the strength of a bull.”.

Achilles behind her already opened his mouth to answer before jumping away, quickly interrupted by the Saber of Black’s sword smashing into the spot he stood on moments ago.

Penthesilea merely rolled her eyes, having felt the annoyed gaze brushing by her. “There is more to armor than protecting your body, fool.”, she answered. Her body crouched, claws ready. Her heart screamed to fight. Her blood boiled up. “It can protect you. And it can hinder you. I’ll gladly demonstrate.”.

Atalanta scowled. ‘She is just like him. A perfect match to him.’. Atalanta noticed Crio flinch out of the corner of her eye. “He is moving…”, he whispered to her. Eyes forward, Atalanta observed.

The Berserker of Black straightened.

Penthesiela’s attention snapped to the Berserker the moment she heard the clanking of his armor.

Without uttering a word, the black knight lunged at her, his arm outstretched. Her reflexes kicking in, she sidestepped, thinking he was going for her throat.

Instead, she stared at her waist in surprise.

‘He stole my swords!’.

The Berserker of Black slowly turned towards her, twirling Penthesilea’s blades in his hands as if they had been his own his entire life.

In the moonlight, her heated breath took form as a haze, slowly ascending the sky.

Crio felt he saw a lock come loose.

Pitch black as the night, her iris darkened, giving her pupils the color of the burning sun.

Roaring enraged, she lunged at the Berserker, slashing down with her claws. The black knight had no problem avoiding the savage strike from above, sidestepping and bringing his sword down to her neck. But before it could reach, Penthesilea clenched his wrist. Her grip was strong, able to break armor, if not for her opponent’s own being incredibly sturdy. Delivering a hard liver blow, she sent him flying, yet with a twist in the air, he landed on all fours.

Her temper lost to her insanity, Penthesilea rushed towards him like a wild bull, crashing right into him.

Achilles was still in the middle of exchanging blows, but the Saber of Black noticed the moment they locked down, that his intense gaze shifted to the queen and then to Berserker, surprised to see the Berserker of Black movements. Seeing the Berserker make Penthesilea loose every bit of restraint made him uneasy.

Every blow she delivered, he blocked with inhuman agility. It resembled more the instincts of a beast at play, guiding him like strings, yet with human precision.

Pushing the Saber of Black away, Achilles prepared to join her side. The last he wanted was for them to lose ground here. But before he could approach her even a step…

…an arrow dug itself into his shoulder.

Atalanta and Crio froze the moment Achilles hissed, pinned against a tree behind him. Blood slowly seeped out from the fresh wound when he tore it out of his flesh. “That was a warning shot…”, Atalanta whispered, immediately snapping her head forward.

Deeply she gazed into the forest.

Her body moved on instinct right in front of her startled master, shooting into the darkness. Behind her, Crio gazed startled as he saw another arrow fall with Atalanta’s. Biting his lips, Crio stood up.

The last thing he needed was another Archer.

The memories Rin’s red Archer standing atop a skyscraper was a harsh reminder of what Archer Servants are capable off.

Considering that he himself was the master of an Archer, he knew what to expect. Atalanta was able to hide in the trees with ease, vanishing from sight. But they were still in the territory of the Archer of Black.

“Great. Now their Archer wants to intervene.”, Crio hissed, keeping his voice low. Atalanta turned her attention to him. Though confident, her voice was anxious. “I could barely sense the arrow approaching. Their Archer is nothing to be scoffed at. We need to leave right now.”. “You are right. We are on the losing end here.”, Crio agreed.

The Berserker of Black had begun pressuring Penthesilea more and more. Penthesilea was pressed against a large tree, dodging and blocking the blows of her own blades in the hands of her opponent. It resembled more a boxing match with Penthesilea being pressed against the corner of the ring.

The Rider of Black had recovered and now both him and the Saber of Black were fighting Achilles. He seemed to have an easier time with them than his partner, but he constantly shifted his gaze to Penthesilea.

Crio gazed down towards the scuffle for a second.

“Rider is getting nervous.”, Atalanta noticed with ease, earning a risen eyebrow. “That arrow rattled his confidence a bit and now he is fixated on Penthesilea in worry she could get hurt. We need to get out of here.”.

Crio took a deep breath.

His heart had begun to beat relentlessly against his ribcage the moment the Berserker of Black began to move. The sounds of clashing steel. The smell of heated metal grinding against another. It all spurred on his desire to join.

And now, he had to, or else they might lose a Servant today.

“Do you trust me?”.

“Huh?”.

Atalanta briefly turned her gaze away, still keeping her attention everywhere around them. The tone she heard out of him felt like a cold knife pushed into her body. The feeling her answer would send him to his death snuck inside her heart. “Crio, this is not the time for this. I-“. “I am aware, but I need to know that right now.”, he urged, not giving her time to speak. “Do you trust me?”.

Again he presented her with the same question.

Atalanta didn’t know how to respond to that. Torn from both ends, she wanted to tell him she trusted him in every decision. Another voice however roared to not let him out of sight, denying that whatever plan he had was not without consequence.

But upon noticing her quivering bow, a small sigh escaped him. He had hoped for an answer but…

…Atalanta didn’t seem to want reply.

It was merely a blink. A fracture of a second as a small leaf fell between them.

Crio had disappeared from her sight.

A loud crash called out to her. The sound of Zeus’ thunder striking the earth and punishing the earth below.

Her head snapped down to the battle.

“Crio!”.

Hearing Atalanta’s terrified howl, Achilles, holding both Rider and Saber back, glanced over his shoulder, feeling his blood freeze.

He didn’t know anymore if his blood froze from a master entering a battle against Servants…

…or the trail the Berserker of Black left, laying motionlessly on the ground.

The earth was scarred, grass burned. A trail, resembling a fallen star.

Dark blue sparks danced around his fist outstretched fist, slowly drawn back to his side.

The black in Penthesilea’s eyes vanished, her savage amazon nature swallowed from the fear induced by the electricity surrounding the white haired greek in front of her, baring his teeth.

Clenching his fist, Crio watched how the Berserker of Black rose with ease. “Moments before I struck you, you lifted one of Berserker’s swords to block.”, he whispered, impressed and annoyed. “You are just as persistent as I remember you.”. 

Feeling the grip on his arm, Crio still did not lift his gaze from the Berserker of Black’s twitching body. “What in Hades’ name are you doing here, Crio?!”, Penthesilea struggled to not break his arm. The very thought of a master jumping in seemed ridiculous, yet here it happened. Not only that, but this very Master saved her, and that wounded her pride as a warrior. “You are Archer’s master! You are not supposed to stay with us on the battlefield! Return to her immediately!”. Her order barely got a click of his tongue, further enraging the queen again. “Do you think I am jesting? Do you think I am worrying about you?! If you die, we lose a Servant!”.

Pulling his arm out of her grip, Crio glared back against the knight. “I am aware of that.”, he answered sharply, returning his attention to the Berserker of Black.

The years he had not seen him are invisible to the eyes. The Berserker of Black’s armor was free of any slashes of the sword he had received, back in the day.

‘As Atalanta said…Completely reset.’, he remembered the words before of Servants being reset upon being summoned. ‘He is nothing but a clean slate. Then that means…’.

Atalanta immediately notched her arrows back. “I don’t know what it is you are planning, Crio. Believe me, once you get back, I’ll…”. One second, he sits beside her, observing quietly. The next, he jumps into the fray, cryptically asking her about trusting him.

And now she stood up there alone with her master never leaving the Berserker of Black out of his sight. Her heart was pounding hard against inside chest. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple, her cool façade shattered.

“What are you planning? Why did you immediately go for the black Berserker? Please, don’t do anything stupid…”.

The moment the knight took his first step…

“…Arthur…”.

The factions froze.

Time seemed to sit still, even the wind not daring to break the silence.

One name fell.

One name that bore too much weight to bear for him.

The name of a king, bearing a sword that could smite with the force of the heavens itself.

No matter how much his eyes focused on the black knight, Crio was unable focus…

…because of the blue dress waving in front of him.

When the holy grail war was won and the lesser grail of Fuyuki seemed to have ejected the Servants that died in battle, incarnating and allowing them to live with them, he had smiled, watching the sunrise, light covering the figures of the victors.

That name, that made the Berserker of Black freeze in his tracks.

“Arthur?”, Penthesilea recited surprised. “The king of the knights? Why are you-“.

“You are still searching for king Arthur, aren’t you?!”, Crio growled hatefully.

The pain of his own nails digging into his palm barely suppressed the anger he felt boiling up inside. Frozen, the knight watched Crio’s face distort, resembling a beast more than a man.

The ocean blue gaze burned up into a burning inferno. Orange as the sunset. Orange as the burning fires that devoured Fuyuki once.

“You might not remember, but I certainly did not forget your fight with Arthur. Did you enjoy seeing Arthur in despair over having to strike down a comrade?!”.

The armor began to rattle.

“Did you enjoy seeing her cry for you?! Mourn?! What she did for you?!”.

Nervously the Berserker of Black began to twitch with every time his name fell.

‘Just as I thought. The moment he hears her name…’.

The Berserker of Black’s body seemed to tremble with an unbearable weight being put on his shoulders. His distorted voice began to tear through his helmet.

Holding his hand behind him, Crio hid he a soft, blue glint falling to the ground behind him like a snowflake.

‘Atalanta!’.

Snapping out of her trance, Atalanta shook her head the moment Crio’s voice echoed in her head. ‘When I tell you, shoot the ground beneath us.’.

“What?”. At this moment, she could not understand exactly what Crio was thinking. He had completely left her in the dark and now he suddenly gave his first order as her master. “Crio, I should-“.

‘Keep your arrows steady and no matter what you do, do not attack Berserker!’.

‘What are you asking of me, _malaka?! I-‘._

_‘ATALANTA!!!’._

Biting her lips, enduring his frustrated roar, Atalanta pulled her arrows back. Patience was key and despite being as much of a bearer of the greek temper as himself, she waited. “I do not know what you are planning. But even if this works…”, she mutters. Ever words she spoke, she could not without gnawing on her lower lip. “…You and I will have a talk about this…”.

“AAaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrr…”.

Crio prepared himself the moment the armored Berserker began to shake violently with his distorted growl.

Helmet reared to the sky, his manic howl erupted.

With a powerful jump, a shadow obscured them as the Berserker of Black descended.

“AAAAAAAAARTHUUUUUUUUUUUUR!!!!!!”.

The name fell like a hammer, Berserker smashing into the ground like a falling star.

The force of the impact, the rage the name gave birth to, echoed in the forest.

Penthesilea’s shock was written all over her face when Crio jumped out of the dust with the black Berserker hot on his trail.

Like a mad beast he struck at Crio from every angle. Despite his madness, every strike was precisely aiming for his most vulnerable spots.

Heart. Liver. Neck.

‘Fast and precise. Despite the madness and animalistic instincts driving him, he knows his body is still human, reacting with knowledge of where I am most vulnerable.’.

But Crio could see through them, evading with simple steps as long as he kept his focus. But what seemed as if he is doing with ease, he did with every cell of his body being on alert, the swift Berserker wildly slashing at him from all sides.

‘I need to stay concentrated. Heracles may be on a whole other level, but one wrong move and it will get ugly!’.

One of Penthesilea’s blades barely brushed by his cheek as he tilted his head. The wind created a small scratch on his cheek with a small hiss of his.

Atalanta was frozen on top of the branch. Even though she heard it before out of his own lips, that Crio survived an encounter with a Berserker, this right here was not normal.

A master evading a Berserker’s savage onslaught as if it was child’s play.

“Idiot!!! What are you doing?!”, Achilles roared. “Get out of there!! You are not supposed to-TCH!”.

But with his first step towards them to take over, an arrow dug into his right upper thigh. ‘Damn Archer!’. His enraged gaze searched the darkness of the woods for a hint, but nothing told where the Archer of Black was. Instead, he was forced to block when the Saber and Rider of Black began a combined assault.

Penthesilea’s hands twitched nervously. A part of her screamed to kick Crio out of harm’s way. But another…

...just watched.

She had to watch how a normal human, not even a god, was able to survive the bestial strikes of the madly howling Berserker with elegant steps, tilts and twist.

Hitting the tree behind him, Crio clicked his tongue. The Berserker had his opportunity.

Penthesilea’s twin sword hungered for the flesh of the white-maned master.

“ARTHUUUUUR!!!”.

The manic knight howled, slashing to the left with both swords and aiming for Crio’s open neck.

Atalanta’s predatory gaze fixated on the black armor, ready to let loose a hail of arrows.

Penthesilea was ready to tackle the Berserker of Black.

As he blocked another blow by the black Saber and Rider, Achilles held his breath.

But Crio easily ducked underneath the swords smashing into the tree, grasping the knight’s neck from behind.

The luscious blue gaze suddenly changed once more. The ocean in his eyes turned into the burning orange of melting hot lava.

A small spark of lightening danced around him

Lightning coursed from Crio’s body all over the black plates.

The harrowing roar of the monstrous Berserker echoed into the night as he was electrocuted. His swords rose, ready to slash behind him and cut the attacker down.

When the Berserker of Black’s arms weren’t able to lift themselves any more, swiftly snatched Penthesilea’s swords when the armored male fell paralyzed to the ground. Swiftly throwing Penthesilea her blades, he turned his head up to his Servant. “Archer! Now! In the middle of the clearing!”, he roared.

He could feel the other Archer’s gaze on his back already. He could feel it clearly when an Archer was targeting him.

He had been on the end of the arrows from Rin’s own Archer once.

Wasting no second, Atalanta’s arrows cut through the air, stabbing cleanly into ground where the small blue glint had fallen down on.

In a matter of seconds, the ground exploded, coating the battlefield in a thick, white fog.

“What?! Mist?! Oh, come on! That is cheap!”.

“Are they attempting a sneak attack?!”.

Crio caught himself smirking for just a second, before he felt the Archer of Black’s gaze on him again. ‘Tch! He can still see us!’. Cursing the Archer, Crio raised his voice again. “Rider! Berserker! Archer! We are retreating!”, Crio ordered, walking out of the clouded area. Aside from his own Servant, he got a surprise ‘huh’ from the greeks. Unable to keep his anger in check, Crio barked. “Those are your orders! KOUNITHITE, ILITHIOI!”.

Penthesilea was not fond of someone who was pretty much a commoner in her eyes telling her to walk off the battlefield, much less call her an idiot. But she sheathed her swords with much reluctance. Seeing Crio battle a Berserker made consider her steps more carefully, but not stopping to shot him a curious look.

Achilles sighed, turning his head back towards the forest for a bit. “Archer of Black! We will see each other on the battlefield! May the gods of olympos bless our battle!”, he roared out before brushing past Crio.

In that small second, however…

…he grasped Crio’s wrist tightly.

“Hey…What were you thinking of leaving sis alone like that?”.

Crio snarled at the whisper slithering into his ears.

The moment Achilles grabbed Crio wrist, he got the look of an enraged white lion.

“I would not have had to if you two idiots had not entered enemy territory!”, he answered, ruthlessly tearing his arm out of the strong grip of the shocked Rider, instead grabbing onto his chestplate. With humongous strength, he pulled Achilles so close, he could feel Crio’s breath. “Get your head out of your ass, Rider! This is not a day trip on the fields of Elysium with your beloved queen! And now get going. I’ll deal with you later.”.

Returning his hand to his pocket, Crio stared at the defeated Berserker.

Achilles crossed his arms behind his head, silently following Penthesilea again. Though he felt Crio’s glare dig into his neck.

Him and Penthesilea.

Feeling the mist slowly vanish, Crio walked away.

“Arrr…thur…”.

Crio’s eyebrows furrowed at the pained sounds. Armor cluttered as the Berserker of Black reached out to him. A glance over his shoulder was all it took for Crio to see the red lights of the visor.

There was no other goal anymore.

“Arthur…”.

The moment Crio spoke her name, he made himself a target. Seeing a knight, one of her own degraded to the state of a mad beast, hurt Crio more than he thought.

There was something stirring inside his chest. Pity. A knight like him degraded to the mindset of a wild beast.

Crio turned his gaze away from him the moment he felt that emotion stir up inside his heart. He wanted to put the Berserker out of his misery, but would not be able to with so many Servants around.

“Come and find me, Berserker. I will settle the score for her…”, he promised, walking away from the battlefield. Nails digging into his palm, he gazed up at the moon. “I will do so, once and for all.”.

Walking through the fog, he wandered back into the past.

_“Is it bad…that I wish to undo my selection?”._

_“Your selection? You mean as a king?”._

_“Yes…I think that…if I never took up that sword, my land and people…might still be alive. Crio, you lived for so long. Shirou says he wants me to stay. But I have the feeling he doesn’t understand my struggle as well as he thinks.”._

_“And now you want to ask me?”._

_“Exactly. Please, tell me…”._

His lips pursed as the cold shower of memories washed over him. His eyes clenched shut.

That moment she turned up to him for support. Her green eyes, those beautiful emeralds that were unrelenting against waves of enemies, so vulnerable and hurt.

And when her voice cracked that night…

_“Is my wish…something childish? Am I…just a little girl…caught in an endless dream?”._

…he couldn’t stay quiet that night, as she poured out her story of the fourth holy grail war into him.

“Oh, Artoria…”, Crio whispered her name with a stinging chest. “Your wish was not wrong. Just not well thought through. Too many things could have gone wrong if you never picked up that sword and became king.”.

Seeing her walking side by side with her master, Crio’s resolve was clear. For Artoria to stay happy with Shirou, he would gladly shoulder that burden.

“I am glad you are not here with me. Stay at Shirou’s side. Enjoy your new life. I will take care of this.”.

Walking through the dust, he clenched his fist that would soon meet the Berserker again, vanishing into the darkness.

“I will make this right for you.”.

Out of the Black’s territory, Crio found Penthesilea and Achilles silently sitting across from Atalanta glaring down at them.

She was incredibly frustrated and the Rider’s sour expression to judge, much like a scolded child in front of his older sister, his eyebrows dropped in apology. Penthesilea scowled up at Atalanta with defiance in her eyes. Whatever the huntress said, the queen didn’t care for.

The small sigh of relief that escaped Crio’s lips made her ears twitch. Her lion tail began to wave, a sign of her agitation.

And the moment Crio approached…

…he found himself right in front of her, roughly grabbing his collar.

“What…in Artemis’ name, were you thinking?!”.

Crio held his breath. No words he said could hope to soothe Atalanta’s flames burning in her eyes. Her hands were shaking, unable to let go. “I told you before that when you die, that I disappear. Yet you jump inside and pick a fight with Berserker?! Are you out of your mind?!”, she growled into his chest. Her green strands of hair were like a curtain allowing glimpses at the anger flaring up.

The moment he averted his eyes, Atalanta’s own widened. He didn’t flinch at all when she shoved him against the tree to her side in an impressive feat of strength. “Why aren’t you answering?! Speak up!!!”, she roared into his face. “SPEAK ALREADY!!!”.

He knew he stepped out of line. He knew should have stayed behind. But nonetheless, Crio decided to step in without her consent. What was misinterpreted as him not giving it a single thought, was silent acceptance of her anger.

A small sigh escaped his pursed lips.

“You have all right in the world to be angry.”, Crio mumbled. “Go on. Punch me if that helps.”.

Rounder and rounder her eyes got. Any more and Crio would have feared they’d fall out.

Her grip grew stronger, nearly tearing the fabric of his coat.

“Wait, sis!”.

The moment Achilles spoke up, fearing she would truly strike at her master, Atalanta snapped out of her shock, her attention on them with an unnerving glare. One wrong word, and she’d shoot an arrow straight at him, son of her friend or not.

Swallowing his words before they were spoken, he averted his gaze from the warning. The sight of Atalanta’s anger was nothing he wanted to be close to.

Surprised and disappointed at the hero of the trojan war unable to speak in front of his idol, Penthesilea took over. “I agree with you. Your master is a fool, Archer.”, she agreed, standing up from the ground. Atalanta baring her teeth didn’t faze her. As a queen and a warrior, she saw many furious faces, so Atalanta’s grimace was nothing she would fear. “Though, you should still feel proud. Your master jumped in courageously and was even able to dodge that mad knight’s blows.”, Penthesilea voiced her opinions, crossing her arms. “A master like that is a rarity. Even if he did something stupid, at least be-“.

Callously Penthesilea let the arrow brush between her and the startled Achilles, without even as much as flinching.

Atalanta’s face was contorted in anger. “You two, I will take care of later, so wait for your turn.”, Atalanta warned. She did not forget the reason they were here in the first place.

Lowering her bow, she turned her head back, seeing Crio walk away in silent shame.

“Crio! I am not done with you yet! Answer me!”, she roared after him, her voice not drowned by her pounding heart. “What were you thinking?! Tell me what you were-Kgh!”.

He felt himself to be responsible for that rage. Guilt clenched and squeezed at his heart. But even while feeling guilty of having worried Atalanta, she saw in his face when he glanced over his shoulder…

…pure disappointment.

Distress at her not answering his question before.

Biting her lips silently, Atalanta ran to his side. But did not look at him.

Neither glanced at the other.

Penthesilea sighed, nodding towards Achilles to follow them for now, earning a regretful nod.

The first battle of the war was over. While the Red’s and greeks could pride themselves in having not lost a single Servant, a small friction emerged between the foundation of trust Atalanta and Crio had built.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while.
> 
> The times have been rather harsh. Covid still has a tight grip here. A city nearby has to resume wearing masks in public again, because too many ignored the warnings and I have been drowning in Xenoblade Chronicles 2 again. 
> 
> Once I looked back in here with the chapter done, I didn't even realize how many had begun reading. I am glad so many people enjoy it!
> 
> Yes, Fran has no appearance here. I like Fran. She is a great character. Who that Berserker of Black here is...
> 
> ...I guess most of you know already XD
> 
> There is a clear reason why I wanted him here, and that will be clarified soon enough. 
> 
> Fight scenes with so many people are tough to write. As usual, I hope you enjoy this chapter, depite it having taken a while :) I can see myself needing more exercise in those, but it was a nice challenge.
> 
> And a huge thanks to my friend helping me with my greek here.


	11. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first battle was over.
> 
> No clear victor. No clear loss. Normally a cause to laugh, let out a relieved sigh. 
> 
> Lingering around the four was a dreadful silence, waiting to be broken.
> 
> Without a second thought, Crio had rushed in and stopped the battle, against Atalanta's wishes. Needless to say, the Archer was displeased for many reasons.
> 
> But will this silence disperse without someone losing his cool?

Far away from the battleground, the footsteps of the group were the only source of sound in the middle of the night. Nothing would dare disrupt the delicate silence that held back the sparks about to ignite the very air around them.

What was once a starlit night of hope, was now shrouded in uncertain.

None had said a single word since after the fight, walking silently towards the camp Crio and Atalanta were building up.

Penthesilea still fought the bitter aftertaste in her mouth of the mad knight having gotten the advantage. The appearance of the knight was but a shade hidden behind a black fog, obscuring a beast reacting on instinct, yet with the precision of men. Pressed against a tree, she avoided his onslaught, until Crio had jumped in and got the Berserker off of Penthesilea.

Even though it was no technical loss from her side, she was still ashamed. As the queen of the amazons, a tribe of savage, battle-hungry women, it was a shame she felt only once, yet not in the same magnitude as before.

Because she had to have a no-name, even a master, save her from an early exit.

Achilles had been gazing at Penthesilea in worry, after the first arrow was shot and dug itself into his left shoulder. While he was busy with the Saber and Rider of Black and later being locked on by the Archer of Black, he could only get a glimpse at what was happening. His heart was beating in his ears when Penthesilea was pressured.

It only grew louder at seeing how Crio jumped in and send the Berserker flying away, hearing Atalanta howl her master’s name out into the darkness.

Yet the shock when the Berserker landed on all fours with a pained grunt left its mark.

Atalanta was fighting with an inner conflict. A part of her was impressed of Crio holding down the Berserker of Black. She couldn’t be prouder to have him by her side, watching amazed how he avoided the hunting knight’s attacks.

But that voice was overshadowed by another.

It was screaming how foolish it was for a master to jump into the fray. It demanded for her shaking fists to pull on his collar, press him against the tree beside her.

To question if he even had a brain inside his head for fighting a Berserker, always with the ugly memory of the scar on his back reminding her of previous battles.

And Crio…

His mind was all around his Servant. He knew exactly what he did, thinking of himself as responsible for Atalanta’s bad mood. It was an ice age early on with none even speaking a word or glimpsing at another.

Taking a deep breath of the chilly night air, Crio gazed up at the stars.

He got on Atalanta’s bad side. Crio’s usual habits had already gotten her to snatch his pack of cigarettes away from him. But this time, he jumped into a fight between Servants as her master.

That could have been her death sentence, and the cold silence was a grim reminder jabbed into his chest. An apology he had trouble formulating. Nothing that came to mind, so he thought, would appease the Archer.

“What…were you thinking…”.

Atalanta had enough of the silence. Suppressing the anger in her voice with a lot of willpower, Atalanta clenched her crossed arms tightly. “Speak to me. What was going in your head for you to jump into the fray like this? Against Berserker of all people?”.

“I fought a Berserker before, Atalanta. I-“.

“I do not care about whom you fought before, Crio!”, she barked up at him, baring her teeth.

With a tight grip on his arm, she forced his eyes on her alone. “You already fought one before and you know what happened! That scar on your back is more than enough prove, that you should be smarter than this! I am unable to understand why you would attempt a fight against him, when you have been injured by one before! You even said that you knew the Berserker of Black! Were you deaf to my voice when I asked you to stay back?! If you die, my path in this world is over!”.

Crio felt how the blood was rushing through his body. Shock twisted into a horrible scowl that would make any beast run.

And with a swift movement, pulled his arm out of her strong grip. “I wouldn’t have had to if not for these two idiots. If I hadn’t moved in that moment, Penthesilea would have been gone before the war even truly began!”, Crio shifted the tone, reflecting her frustration with his own.

The moment his voice was about to explode, Atalanta took a startled step back.

“You think I wasn’t aware of what I was doing? It is exactly because I know how to fight against him, that I could jump in like this and keep losses on our side at a minimum. I told you already; I might be a master, but do not mistake me for your run-of-the-mill magus! I fought on the frontlines my entire life, Atalanta! So do not dare think that I have no idea of what I am doing!”.

Penthesilea interrupted with a groan, feeling herself being viewed as a woman again. “You underestimate me sorely, Crio. I should have you know, that I was the only one able to pressure this fool of a Rider beside me during our former life.”.

Pushing his distaste at being called an idiot again, Achilles silently sighed. “Well, she is right on that. She nearly killed me on our first meeting. It was a close match.”, he admitted, sheepishly rubbing his neck. “It was really close. She could have beaten me.”.

Snapping his head to greeks, Crio’s eyes, a pair of sharpened daggers, plunged into their cores.

“I will wash both of your heads thoroughly after we are done here.”, Crio released a bestial growl. “I do not know if all Greeks back in the day were idiots like you two, blatantly wandering into the enemy territory. Quite frankly, I do not care.”.

“You are greek yourself. And I told you that we can take care of ourselves.”, Penthesilea answered much more viciously this time. She had been patient with Crio. But his behavior slowly began to put her patience to the test. Pulling on Achilles’ ear, earning a sharp hiss, she explained: “See? I can hurt him. We both have divine blood in us. Do not think we cannot take care of ourselves, Crio.”.

“I think he gets it! Ouch! _Afti!_ ”, he whined about his ear. Masterfully ignoring the Rider trying to get his ear back, a slight grin at the sweet tunes of his pain, Penthesilea continued to prove her point. “I am a daughter of Ares. Him a son of Thetis. You were not there. You do not know what it means to be a warrior.”.

Slowly his nails tore into his palm.

“We live for battlefield. We are birthed, and we die there. We yearn for strong enemies to fight. What we do is our concern alone.”.

Penthesilea’s pride as a warrior made his stomach burn from the inside out. Every muscle in his body began to scream.

His fingers gave a soft twitch.

“A lone wolf like you could never understand what it means to persevere on the battlefield with your allies. You live alone…and you die alo-“.

Feeling the bloodlust in the air, the birds, awakened from their slumber, fled the forest they called home.

A drop of sweat rolled down Penthesilea’s forehead.

Achilles’ arm was tense, holding Crio’s wrist tightly.

Just in time, before the white-maned lion’s fingers tore into her neck.

Atalanta had been able to see him this time.

Fast as a living bolt thrown by Zeus, he lessened the distance, ruthlessly attempting to stab into the queen’s neck, if the hero of the trojan war didn’t intervene to save her.

Her throat dry, Atalanta observed the tense situation with wide eyes. ‘His speed. He is as fast as me…’.

Gazing at their Rider’s hand protecting Penthesilea’s frail looking neck, Atalanta noticed a slight twitch. More and more she began to grow unnerved when Crio’s nails approached the soft, pale skin of Penthesilea, fighting against the Rider’s own strength.

‘Achilles has trouble restricting Crio?’.

“Crio, I understand.”, Achilles gave his best attempt to calm Crio’s rage.

Many memories of his past life had flooded back the second Crio mentioned warriors running blindly into danger.

One such, his mentor, his friend.

His family, that wore his armor.

Seeing the smile of Patroclus in his mind again, Achilles did his best to protect Penthesilea from the enraged master. Unnatural strength pushed against his own.

“I am sure you read about it, so I won’t hide that. My own recklessness, my stubbornness, my pride. It had cost me what I treasured most in my life.”, he admitted without a second thought and a strained voice. “You are right, Crio. We are idiots. Battling is all we are good at. Me and Berserker. I left tactics to my comrades. I thought it was unnecessary waste of time. We can only fight on the battlefield for glory.”.

His gaze wandered to the shuddering Atalanta.

“In that regard, at least from what my father told me, Atalanta is fundamentally different. She lives not for honor on the battlefield or to go to Elysium.”.

Gazing into Crio’s dark look, he found the same scowl that Atalanta wore normally.

“That is why you drew her instead of me or Penthesilea. You fight not because you want to fight. You fight because it is a bothersome necessity to survive. You live by the rule of the strong prey upon the weak, right?”.

A small grunt out of Crio’s lips only confirmed his suspicion.

The force in Crio’s hand seemed to lessen ever so slightly.

“See? You and sis are so similar in your principles. So, don’t you think it is okay, for a Servant to worry about their master they feel close to?”.

Crio took no breath.

Never did his empty looking gaze break away from Achilles, the hero hoping for this shark in front of him to understand.

It felt strange.

The son of a sea nymph, a divine being of water. Yet so scared of a creature that swims in it.

Crio was no great white shark in his eyes, even if that was terrifying enough. No. Achilles and Penthesilea saw something more prehistoric. Something that shouldn’t be alive anymore. A creature so terrifying it made their blood freeze.

Jaws that when opened, could kill a whale with ease.

But that shark seemed to brush by them, deciding to close its mouth and hide its razor-sharp teeth.

When he felt the tension on the arm loosen, Achilles let go of Crio’s wrist, gazing at his command seals. Taking a deep breath, hoping his own heart to calm down, he gazed at Penthesilea’s shock written on her face, rubbing her neck. ‘Fast…Way too fast. Had Rider not jumped in, he…’, Penthesilea realized. Her fear struck Achilles deep inside his core.

The white-haired man in front of her was more than they anticipated. Atalanta’s Master, so they felt, was…

…inhuman.

They couldn’t put their finger on it.

Turning his head away, Crio walked away, brushing past his startled Archer, switching her gaze to Achilles worrying about Penthesilea. “Is everything okay?”.

“Get away from me…”, she hushed him with a quaking voice. Her frail hand never left the spot his fingers nearly jabbed into.

Atalanta’s hands clenched tightly. ‘He was out to kill her.’, she knew. ‘That was no empty threat. Crio was going for the kill right there. And he nearly would have, had Rider not jumped in.’.

_“Dhen xeres tipota, malakes.”._

Atalanta’s ears flopped a bit. She heard him clearly insulting both the queen and the hero of the trojan war. They don’t know anything about him, and he drove that point home like a spear.

Not even Atalanta herself knows everything about him.

Only about one quality that made their lives meet upon this vast ocean of possibilities.

That small sliver of hope for a good life for children.

She wanted to know more.

What he had gone through.

Why he became her master and what made him so happy to see her.

Not only for herself however. The dead child still lingered in her mind. It was because of her they met. Because of that small light that lightened Crio’s path to her.

That thought of her life having nearly been snuffed out for nothing because Crio recklessly risked his neck, fueled an indescribable rage inside of Atalanta, jabbing her nails into her palm to not lunge at him at this very moment.

Atalanta saw that life as a precious sacrifice, much too heavy to bear alone.

And he nearly threw it away.

That white-maned warrior, her dear master…

…nearly threw that girl’s life away for nothing.

Atalanta’s eyes flared up with a burning rage, as she thought she saw the girl beside him, trying to grasp onto his hand with tears in her eyes.

That was when she snapped.

Crio flinched at the delicate looking woman’s surprising strength gripping down on his wrist, feeling as if she could shatter his bones, pulling his attention right towards her raised ears.

Her grimace was obscured by the back of his hand.

Bright red markings, staring right into his core.

“Look at this, Crio! What are those?”, she ordered watching his eyes move towards the back of his hand. “You have a responsibility here. That, right there in front of your eyes. Do you know what this is?”.

Staying silent to let the question sink in, she didn’t see Crio slowly bare his teeth.

“That is our contract! Three seals with whom you can order me with our shared mana supply, yes. But more than that, for someone who is so similar to me that I was called upon, it is more.”, she whispered, keeping the storm inside her voice in check. “This is a vow between us! A vow like the one I gave lady Artemis! If you die, then it is all over for me. This is my chance to finally grant my wish with someone at my side to support me. I did not open my thoughts, open myself and my heart, to someone I would expect to be killed in the first seconds of the great holy grail war; I opened myself to someone I want to see at my side once we hold the grail in our hands!”.

Slowly losing his patience, Crio felt being ridiculed by the woman holding his wrist. “Do you think I do not know what those are and can do?! I am not a fool, Archer! I told you already; I know what I am doing!”.

“Then why do you behave like one?! Why did you jump a battle between Berserkers?!”, she roared back at him, her glowing emerald eyes clashing the raging blue waves. “You are damned fool, Crio! Are you trying to throw her life away?! That girl died for us! She is the reason we even met and you…you just throw her sacrifice away by jumping into battle?!”.

“Archer…”, Crio vilely fletched his teeth. “If you mention her life as a sacrifice one more time…I’ll…”.

“I do not see her as a sacrifice that was necessary. But that she gave her life so we can meet. I will not allow my master to throw that girl’s heart away! What are those on your hand, Crio?! Tell me!”.

“ARCHER!”.

“ _PES MOU, MALAKA!!_ ”.

Penthesilea swallowed at the shift in tone, still holding her neck. Their roars bounced of the trees, an ever-present echo of a bond that might break right now.

Feeling uneasy in his boots when these raging waves clashed, Achilles lifted his hand and carefully approached them.

The sight of Master and Servant glaring at another was terrifying him more than Penthesilea could at this very moment. But the roaring he felt was unnecessary.

Every cell in his body screamed to run away.

Lions, a male and a female, he saw circling each other, baring fangs and claws.

What horrified him, he saw something deeply connecting the two. Something precious about to break.

Penthesilea didn’t move at all, watching wide-eyed how the Rider tried to close in with careful steps. ‘What is that idiot doing?! Is he trying to get himself killed?!’.

“Hey, hey. Easy, both of you.”, Achilles stepped in once more, fighting that primal instinct inside of him screaming to run away.

None of the two even gifted him a glance. Their focus was entirely on their partner.

Finding none of the two even paying attention to him, Achilles cleared his throat, turning to Atalanta. “Sis, he only did what he thought was right at that moment. We don’t know that Berserker, but if he had to react like that, then he is not to be underestimated.”, he tried his best to soothe agitated Archer chewing on her cheek now. “I am not one for strategy. I’d rather plunge my spear into the fray headfirst. But if Odysseus were here, then he would have admitted as well, that Crio jumping in was because he knew what he was doing. And his cousin was your leader, right? I am sure Jason told you a bit about him.”.

A wide smile on the Rider’s lips, he nodded when Atalanta’s eyelids fell a bit. His words resonated with the part inside her that was proud of Crio, making her feel a slight bit of regret. Memories of the Argo resurfaced.

A loud, arrogant blonde at the steering wheel. She shouted his commands with pride in his chest, yet was never able to do anything.

But one thing she admitted, was his experience in battle planning and warfare on sea. She heard him speak about his cousin, Odysseus, a few times in their travels.

“Trust in Crio a bit. I think he showed in front of the priest that he was not someone to take likely. He wouldn’t have jumped in if he knew he wouldn’t return safe and sound to you. And if he really fought a Servant before, then I myself think I could trust him. Don’t you think he deserves that much?”.

Atalanta pursed her lips. From the corner of her eyes, seeing Crio turn his own gaze away from her, she felt a knife plunged into her chest.

With a click of her tongue, her grip on his wrist loosened.

Turning his attention to Crio, Achilles found him taking a deep breath when Atalanta lowered her head. White eyebrows were still furrowed, but he tried to calm himself down.

“Bro, sis really cares about you. My father told me that it was hard for normal males to even get a word out of her, much less a sentence. I would bet this is the most she talked to a man in ages, much less clamping your hand like she does right now. Don’t be mad at her for worrying about you. Please.”, he tried to get his words through Crio’s thick skull.

His facial expression relaxing, Crio gazed at Atalanta avoiding his gaze. He had beaten himself up before already for Atalanta’s bad mood, and Achilles’ words were only making that feeling return stronger than ever.

“Try to understand her a bit. You are a person very dear to her. Even someone blind can see that much. You are someone she shared her wish with. My father only told me that her wish was pure, but she would only tell that to people she allows close to her, because she got badmouthed about it a lot in the past.”, he spoke. Atalanta’s terrified scream still rang in the Rider’s ears. “They called her a hypocrite. My father said that a lot. And she told you her wish, whatever it was, and that you are similar. You have something that connects you to sis. And…she was scared about you. Can you imagine what it feels like for someone like her, having opened up to someone, to see that person rush in head first into a battle of supernatural spirits of dead heroes?”. Putting his hand on his chestplate, Achilles shook his head. “Hell, I would have been terrified if you were my master and you jumped in against Berserker of all people! Couldn’t it have been the Archer of Black? Archers can’t fight well in close combat. Or the Rider of Black. He was fairly weak.”, he muttered with a small shiver. “But you immediately went for Berserker of all people. Well, alright. You probably wouldn’t have cared much about my opinion anyway. You seem to hate me after all.” With a nervous chuckle at Crio’s dark glare, Achilles rubbed the back of his neck. “But if sis feels the need roar at you like that, to be more careful, that means something, don’t you think? So please, don’t be angry with her. And if you have trouble seeing her as your Servant right now…”.

With a slow wave up and down, he forced Crio’s eyes to muster Atalanta.

Completely from head to toe, Crio found himself mesmerized by her beauty underneath the moon. And shiver softly from seeing her sad look.

“You are roaring at a woman. A truly beautiful woman, that seems to like you. I think most men would bite their tongue when they lose control over their tone. You reminded me a bit of my old man when you and her appeared in the church, and she seemed clearly comfortable around you. You wouldn’t roar at a woman, right?”.

A small gasp escaped Crio.

A memory rose from the depths of his consciousness.

A phantasm appeared behind him…

…clenching his shoulder tightly.

A woman of incredible beauty. Eyes a soft pink, marvelous like polished gems. Yet, they glared at him sharply like the fangs of a snake.

_“Do you have any idea in what kind of dangerous situations you indulge yourself in?”._

_“Better than you do, Medusa.”._

_“I might still be in the learning process of today’s times, but I am not foolish, Crio.”._

_“It is my job.”._

_“Chasing and killing yakuzas that threaten children is your job? Coming home, every single night, with blood on your hands, is your job? Making Medea worry every day? I can think of a multitude of activities that are more fulfilling to you than slaughtering criminals. Especially some that are less reliant on you using your body as a meat shield.”._

_“ARE YOU TELLING ME I SHOULD HAVE LET THAT BABY DIE?! SHE HAD HER MOTHER TAKEN FROM HER, BECAUSE OF THESE BASTARDS!!!”._

_“…I was there…”._

_“Huh?”._

_“Look at you. You normally sense when a Servant is around, even when they are in spirit form. But you didn’t even notice I was protecting the infant for you, because you were so reckless. You were only seeing ahead of you, instead of around you.”._

_“…”._

_“…Medea said it often enough, so I will not chastise you again. And I am not going to be mad for you roaring at me…”._

_“…Medusa, I-“._

_“Let us drop her off at the nearest orphanage. And then I will pull out the bullets in your body…Medea is going to be angry to see you return like this, two nights in a row. I hope you are ready for that.”._

_“…I am sorry…Medusa…I…”._

_“…Stamata, Crio. I am angry, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand your desire to protect. But…be more careful. You only have that one life. Medea only has one brother. And I…only have a dear friend like you…”._

He had roared at Medusa once.

The beautiful Rider of Greece. The very gorgon people feared with their lives.

In his pursuit of Yakuzas that murdered a woman for having stumbled upon a shady deal, she was killed. Drowned in a river.

The baby she tried to safe, they wanted to silence, only to cross Crio’s haunting glare the moment the infant began to cry out for its dead mother.

Ruthlessly, he tore through them, killing one after another in a more gruesome manner than the former.

But the moment one turned his rifle on the baby in a desperate attempt to protect himself, Crio jumped in front, not noticing that the Rider had approached behind the baby to protect it.

She would have protected the baby, wrapped her chains around the murderous criminal and pulled him up to the tree, slowly suffocating the life out of him with a faint smile on her face.

But Crio was out of his mind the moment the gun was pointed at the innocent life, jumping in front of it, having the bullets riddle his back, before jumping at the attacker. Weapon taken of his hands, he had put the barrel in the Yakuza’s mouth…

…unloading every single bullet.

And at the end of it all, he had Medusa talk to him, once more mentioning his reckless nature in well-meant worry for him.

Just like with Atalanta right now, he had his temper get the better of him. He roared at Medusa, yet she told him to stop apologizing.

It was a different woman this time he was roaring at, but another Rider putting a stop to his anger.

Achilles smiled, relief washing over his body, when Crio lowered his head.

The roaring finally stopped for good.

“There you go. See?”, he chuckled a bit. “You two are matchmade. You shouldn’t fight with your loved one like that.”.

And that was one step too many.

A terrifying mix of ocean blue and leaf green that clearly told him to sew mouth shut, or they would do it for him, making the Rider nearly fall flat on his ass. That was no glare people wanted pointed at them.

Back on track with an annoyed grunt, Crio left with Atalanta following close behind, turning her head away with a click of her tongue.

Achilles rubbed his throat uneasily, feeling as if the fangs of these beasts tried to go for the kill. “What am I getting such angry looks for? I just tried to help.”, he wondered, ruffling his hair a bit. Brushing past him, Penthesilea shot him a disappointed look from the corner of her eye that sank into his bones.

That was the ‘I cannot believe you are that stupid’ look.

“If you know just tell me.”, he mumbled, following her closely.

“Why were these two brought here, Achilles?”, Penthesilea posed him the question with crossed arms. It took him a few seconds, but once he realized it, he turned his head away.

“Correct. Because of us. Two greek warriors that wanted to fight.”.

In the end, the beginning of the issue was them. Crio said it clearly before.

Unable to forget Penthesilea, Achilles had followed her throughout the days she had been summoned like a faithful guard, yet only getting the edge of a blade on his throat in the form of her sharp tongue reminding him about their history. But when she wished time alone, she was still followed to the point she walked into the black Faction’s territory in hope he would just leave.

And in the end, she was saved by Crio.

That was why Penthesilea had not said a word up until this point. She was angry that she had to be saved by someone, but still felt a debt that had to be paid that she could continue to fight. Otherwise, her wish would never be granted.

“That was a foolish thing of Crio to do and Archer is right to chastise him. But in the end, that they had to intervene…and now having had to fight like this…”.

Gazing ahead, she saw the distance between Crio and Atalanta. They were so close to each other, but at this moment, they seemed so far apart.

A small sigh escaped the queen’s pursed lips. “It is our fault they started to fight. He weighed the possibilities and found no other option. Crio did that for the good of the faction, yet knowing he could take the Berserker of Black. The Archer of Black had you in his sights and he was probably waiting to snipe me down as well. We had to leave. But for that, Crio ignored her warnings, putting him and herself into danger. This is not a place for us to intervene.”, she explained with coolly. A queen she was, but also a leader and a warrior. Observation was a necessity if you wanted to survive the next day. “These two…need time. They have the potential to be the most dangerous combination in this war. But they need to grow. Once their minds become one, these two will become a great weapon. But such a fine weapon needs time to be forged and the proper flames. The steel needs to heat up, melt, form and unify, before becoming a weapon that could tear into any hide. So…their fight here has a purpose. The sooner they sort out these few differences, the less likely their connection will fall apart in the midst of it.”.

Achilles understood what she meant. A fight like that would deepen their connection. “That still doesn’t explain why I get the evil eye…”, he remarked, crossing his arms.

Penthesilea clenched the bridge of her nose. ‘I am not going to tell him. If he heard so much about her, he should know about it.’, she reminder herself.

Seeing her rub her neck again made him worry. “Are you okay, Penthesilea? Crio didn’t reach you, did he?”.

“Do not say my name, _malaka_. We are out in the open.”, she cursed him again, quickly increasing her pace to get away from his sour look. Gazing into the sky, he pursed his lips.

The rest of the walk was pure, unbreakable silence.

Crio and Atalanta never exchanged a glance or a single word.

Arriving at the lake, Achilles and Penthesilea gazed in wonder at the beautiful place that the two called their home for now. “Incredible. So, this is your camp?”, Penthesilea commended. Sitting down in front of the lake, the queen pulled off her armored boots. The cold, clean water felt amazing on her skin, making her sing a small tune in delight. A bright red color on his face, Achilles turned his head away, silently sitting behind her.

But his bright glowing blush didn’t escape the attentive gaze of the huntress. A faint smile on her lips, she kept in a giggle how the Rider started to look like a shy teenager, turning his head away. ‘I see. I might ask Crio if he knows anything about that.’, she noted. The smile faded when she gazed at her master searching through his pockets.

Turning around, Crio pointed to the ground. “You three wait here. I will be back in a second.”.

Taking out his phone, Crio began to walk off before being interrupted by Penthesilea. “Where are you going?”. “Telling the priest what happened.”, he answered monotone. “I should at least give a small report.”.

The first night and it was a disaster for him. Had this been any other of his missions, he would have vomited from every little screw up that happened there. From the two greeks just strolling in there like nothing happened and openly searching for a fight, to finding out Lancelot was the Berserker of Black, to having put Atalanta in danger because he had to act quickly.

Especially the last one weighed heavily on his mind.

“I think it is better to tell him face to face.”, the Berserker voiced her opinion. “We have seen the Servants fight and you know who the Berserker of Black is. That would also be a good opportunity to enlighten us all who he truly is.”.

Glancing behind him with a look that nearly begged to not make him do this, Atalanta nodding affirmatively was the final nail in the coffin.

He didn’t really wish to meet the priest right now. The mere sight of him made him sick, much less his name paired with the voice of a snake.

Slowly the forest air cleaned his lungs with a deep breath. “Alright. Then go into spirit form. I’ll take the shortest route through town.”, Crio gave up with a click of his tongue. “Tch. I really don’t wish to see his face right now. Neither his nor Assassin’s.”.

Penthesilea mumbled vilely under her breath how she hated doing this, yet did without any more complaints after that. Sighing at her language, Achilles responded the same and disappeared silently.

He waited a bit for the third presence around him to disappear, crossing his arms silently.

But when Crio gazed at Atalanta, finding her walking towards him…

…he felt her fingers gently tug on the sleeve of his coat to take it off.

A message so subtle, one could miss it. But clear as the water in the lake beside them.

One that made him shudder from the wave of guilt washing over him.

Even after they roared at each other, after glaring and baring their teeth, Atalanta refused to leave his side, desiring to stay manifested.

The moment she let go, Atalanta felt she’d allow him free rein to fight as he pleased, losing her chance to win.

And the fingers clutching the leather softly trembled a bit the more he let her wait.

Crio’s eyes softened at the sight of Atalanta being stubborn, reminding him silently about their promise once more and his own agreement of her never having to vanish into spirit form. Taking off his coat, he courteously gave it to her, helping her to get dressed.

When he fixed the collar, Atalanta only stared at his chest in front of her, silently taking in his scent. Turning around when he was done, she glanced over her shoulder at him. She gave a silent request. A hand underneath her mane, she lifted her hair a bit.

Carefully, his hand wandered underneath her hair. It was unkempt and tangled, but still incredibly beautiful in his eyes and soft between his fingers. With care, he pulled her hair out of the coat, watching it fall down her back. Being extremely careful to not harm a single strand and making sure nothing was tangled inside the coat, he brushed over her hair a bit, not noticing how he started combing. He was too mesmerized to notice.

While she closed the jacket in front of her without a single word, she allowed him to comb her mane, waiting until he noticed by himself what he was doing with a red face. It took a while. But when he did, he rushed by his startled Archer close beside him…

…again with an uneasy silence falling upon the two.

Out on the streets of the town, they found themselves completely alone. Not a single soul wandered outside in this time. Who would, aside from your occasional drunkard?

Penthesilea and Achilles did not say a single word, leaving Crio and Atalanta all to themselves.

Having been so steadfast before, Penthesilea began to mentally gnaw on her lip. ‘ _Ela,_ you two. Say something.’, she asked silently. ‘You need to sort this out right now at the beginning. You will not have time later in the war.’.

Penthesilea had the uneasy feeling that the more they waited, the higher was the risk of something bad happening to the two.

‘It is going to escalate. If it happens at the wrong time, you will lose each other…’.

Achilles was right. These two were similar.

So similar in fact, that when something went wrong, these two would lose the foundation that made them so strong in the first place, by hurting their own principles.

Relieving himself of a long held in breath, Crio spoke up to break the silence. “Atalanta, I am sorry.”. He wanted to bring out the apology much sooner, but Achilles’ intervention only annoyed him for stating the obvious to both of them.

Her hands in the pockets of his coat, Atalanta had not looked at him ever since. All this time she showed him the cold shoulder, not knowing herself how fix the problem.

Not even the stars could tell them what to do at this moment.

During the battle, what was once a clear starlit night, was now nothing but clouds, reflecting what he felt inside.

What seemed so clear at the beginning was suddenly a mystery.

Gazing at his feet, Crio sighed. So used to speaking openly with her from the very beginning, the different side of the huntress was a rude awakening. “I know that you are angry. In the eyes of a Servant, that was foolish and I agree. But…I am not a master that can stay on the sidelines.”, he explained. “I don’t know anything else BUT fighting on the front. That is what I did my entire life. That is my nature.”.

He hoped with every word that Atalanta understood. He was inhuman in every way. Mortality he lost millennia ago.

He was a sword meant to cleave when it was ordered to.

A living weapon that tears flesh from bone.

He could never stay behind. His nature would not allow it anymore. That was how ‘they’ forged Crio from his childhood on over millennia, to make him the perfect killing machine.

In that, he contradicted what he was supposed to be for her; Her Anchor to this world. Her life belt, keeping the huntress from drifting into the unknown, unconsciously sailing on her own before being picked up by someone she’d never trust with her life.

Her master that kept supplying her with mana and made sure none of the two would come to harm.

And most of all…

…her greatest supporter. Her partner, that would suffer through all those hardships with her.

That is what he thought he had to be for Atalanta. That is what he promised her before she began to cry.

And he failed.

Atalanta never said a single word, not even gifting him a glance unlike before. No grunt. No snark. She listened, but opted to not say a word, hoping he’d learn from her refusing to speak with him for a while.

Thinking about his current position, he pursed his lips, more and more, thinking of how unfitting he was for this purpose. Being ignored by her like this stung, making him feel like a pebble in on the road. ‘That must be a taste of what men felt like when they even tried to talk to her.’.

Rin would have been the perfect Master for this Archer. An excellent mage all around, very resourceful and sharp in her mind.

Gazing at his rough hand, he felt the need to smoke again. Nothing that made the girl the impressive Master she was, he could see in himself.

He was no mage.

The magic he used was otherworldly. Though it can be used for multiple purposes, his control over mana essentially served only one purpose.

Killing.

Humans.

Monsters.

…Gods.

Slowly doubt slung a rope around his neck, making it harder to breathe when he gazed at Atalanta’s lowered ears. She gave no motion that she understood, not even a squeak that she could understand his decision.

What he saw in Rin and Archer, the trust that connected the both of them to the point that Rin would jump off a multi-story building and believing the red bowman to catch her, he could not see with him and Atalanta.

He would catch her. If she fell, he would do everything to catch her in his arms, sacrifice any limb necessary.

But when he asked her before, she couldn’t reply. She couldn’t tell him, that she trusted him.

The more he began to doubt himself, the more Crio began to think of the blue Saber. The difficulties she faced with her master unable to supply her with enough magical energy and even recklessly using his own body to save her from the greek Berserker.

And he saw himself in it. Or what he thought Atalanta saw.

Himself rushing in…

…and getting torn to pieces in front of her, leaving her alone surrounded in a pool of his own blood.

“I am sorry, Atalanta. I cannot apologize enough.”.

Atalanta remained silent at his words. A faint smile spread. ‘He apologized so often now.’, she laughed a bit inside. She just wanted give the silent treatment to make him ponder a bit about his actions. ‘Maybe…I should drop the silence.’.

Her soft lips lifted to tell him it was fine.

It was time to tell him what she felt when he rushed in there; Why she felt the need to roar.

She wanted to see him smile again when she spoke.

“I will find someone better for you.”.

Atalanta’s blood froze. Her body refused to move, frozen on the spot. ‘W-what? What did…you…’.

‘What…are you thinking?!’, Penthesilea fought to keep her rage in check. Had she manifested, she would have punched Crio then and there. She would have dug her fist into his stomach so hard, he would have vomited.

Silent from the shock paralyzing his ethereal body, Achilles couldn’t believe what he just heard. ‘No! What are you saying to her, you fool?!’.

Atalanta’s nails jabbed into the black sleeves of the coat, holding in her horror.

‘What are you saying, Crio? Another…Master?!’.

Barely glancing over her shoulder, her eyes widened at the sight of a rueful smile. A searching gaze in his palm for an answer.

“I know I behave like a headless chicken. I never was able to give a damn my own wellbeing. I get that told more often than enough.”. He didn’t have enough fingers to count how often Medusa warned him. He didn’t forget every night he returned home to see Medea stand up on the stairs, biting her lips with Souichirou having kept her company to not stay alone in the cold night. “Give me a bit of time. I know someone good. She was the master of the Archer in the war in Fuyuki. With her, you can definitely win the war. You can at least trust my words.“.

She thought her nails were tearing the leather around her apart. ‘I don’t want another…I don’t want another!’, she screamed inside at his sudden lack of confidence in himself. It was too much. Too sudden.

Why did he want to search for another?

Why…

Why did he want to leave her behind?

“I will contact her tonight. If we stay low the next few days, she should-“.

“If you dare finish that sentence right now, I will make sure you regret every single word you spoke to me since we met!”.

His entire body cringed at the slightest sound of a crack in her voice. The night air around them felt warm in comparison the knife stabbed into his chest, her voice pushing it ever deeper.

“Find me another master? Did you hit your head while fighting Berserker?!”, she whispered distraught, suppressing the overboiling anger in her chest.

“It was only the first night of many. I never thought you would be one to give up so easily! What is wrong with you?!”,

Atalanta had enough. Few words, but making her so furious, that she wanted to punch her master.

“There will be more battles ahead of us. Things have gone wrong, as I expected given it was Berserker and Rider waltzing into enemy territory. But don’t say something so foolish! You are speaking as if this all was your fault!”.

Gripping her left arm, Atalanta shook her head.

The frustration conveyed to him in the form of her delicate fingers clenching the sleeve of his black coat.

She did everything to keep herself from breaking. Too many bad memories washed over her.

“Crio, our connection is still young, merely hours old! You still summoned me. You summoned me WITHOUT a catalyst! No normal man would have managed that. It is a feat in itself. If you were just any man, any master, I wouldn’t have exchanged a single word with you. If you were unfit, I would have killed you on the spot!”.

Crio’s eyebrows lowered. Her voice was so quiet compared to before, so soft. Fragile. Something he would not have expected of a legendary Archer like her.

“Never…NEVER dare to tell me to find another master again! Just…don’t…”, she hissed sharply, a long held in breath following out of her bruised lips. For a while she had begun to gnaw when none even uttered a single word.

But he was just about to mindlessly speak something to her she would never forgive. Something so foolish, that he pulled Atalanta back to reality.

“We have the same wish. If we were too different, you might have erased the contract or I killed you before that. But look at us! We are similar in so many aspects! That is why I feel so comfortable around you, a sensation I only felt with two comrades on the Argo. Don’t just rush in on your own like wild boar. I told you before, right? You do not have to doubt yourself about being my master. It is not you who decides that, Crio.”.

Cutting through his clouded mind, Atalanta firmly stood her ground in front of his shock.

“I, your Servant, decide that! If you were not worthy, I would have shot you between your eyes already! I would have killed you without a second thought!”.

It felt like the warm sun rising again after a cold winter’s night the moment she turned to see him.

A smile slowly made its way onto his lips, the moment he saw her stern gaze again. Something that should make him quiver, made his chest feel a comfortable warmth spread through his body.

Her speech about him not being alone, about wolves and lions living in a pack flooded back.

“Even if that master you mentioned had an Archer, who knows if I could get along with her? Don’t be so narrow minded.”, she shook her head again. Putting her hand over her heart, feeling it beat against her chest, she whispered softly. “It was not in my intentions to ridicule you, if you felt like that. I know my manners are rough and to some people I just cannot help voicing my thoughts freely. I apologize. That wasn’t what I tried to make you understand…”.

Remembering his voice raising when she faced him with his command seals, was something she never wished to hear again. His booming voice, warning her that the next step would come with a consequence.

And she defied him, returning with anger of her own.

But even then, Crio never mentioned ones that to him she was a mere Servant. He could have used a command seal to order utter obedience.

Instead, he roared back at her as if she the same as when she was alive.

A normal human. A feeling of being equal.

“It hurts myself to see you lose confidence in yourself. Had I just been able to answer you before, this stupid fight would have never taken place. So…let me fix that right now.”, Atalanta answered his question from before.

This time, with a bright smile to cut down the last of his doubts.

“I trust you, Crio. I understand now. I trust you with all my heart. Never forget that. If you can take care of yourself on the front…If you can truly fight on par with Servants, at least speak with me about your plan before so I can support you. My arrows will strike down anyone that even comes close to you. Let us fight side by side next time… _kala?_ ”.

If he could, he would have hugged her. That smile she notched back on her bow, struck with such force in his heart, that Crio felt his knees grow weak.

How many people, he thought, were ever able to earn such a smile and her trust?

With himself, only two.

Feeling lighter in his boots, Crio smacked his cheeks. And at the sight of his confidence returning, Atalanta felt pride burning bright inside of her.

“You are right. Sorry. Forget what I said.”, he answered with a soft laugh. Despite her anger before, she still put her trust and her wish on his shoulders. That weight he would never throw off. “I don’t know what came over myself. I am pathetic sometimes…”.

Showing her soft smile again, Crio felt his heart melt.

“It’s fine. Then reflect on it. Do not pull stunts like that on me ever again. Promise me, Crio.”.

“I won’t. I promise.”, came the answer she hoped he’d keep this time.

The horror that had seeped into her bones when he rushed into the unknown, Atalanta would probably never forget.

Neither would Crio forget how she screamed out his name when he took off on his own.

Side by side, the comforting silence from before their mission surrounded them. Standing beside their partner without a worry in the world as they smiled, appreciating the presence of the other.

Atalanta gazed up into the starlit night. “The clouds finally disappeared. What a beautiful night.”. Raising his head, Crio’s eyes wandered towards the countless stars. Their trip ended, resting on the orb in the sky. “We have. The moon looks lovely tonight.”, Crio chuckled, his hands in his pockets. “It feels…like it is watching over us somehow.”.

Crio remembered fondly of the times he’d sit outside in the dark, reading Atalanta’s story together with his mother when he was still very young and unable to read. Every time her warm voice told the tale of the huntress, speaking about the goddess that saved her.

Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. Her symbol, the pristine white orb shining down on them.

In their silence, Atalanta felt her heart race a bit. Her cheeks felt warm, smiling up towards the moon with him, the symbol of the woman that saved her. “Yes…I feel _she_ is watching over us.”, she whispered, glancing at her master.

“Lady Artemis…is protecting us both…”.

Unconsciously, their elbows nearly brushed over another as she scooted a bit closer. Barely feeling the nudge, they didn’t mind the new silence, adoring the moon smiling down at them from above.

_“Phew. Glad that ice age is over. At least they are being nice to another again. I thought they were going to break up. Should we leave them alone, Penthesilea?”._

The smiles faded as swiftly as the wind laughed, rushing by them. Atalanta and Crio silently cursed the fact that they had unwanted companions around, completely forgetting that they weren’t alone.

_“You really have no clue when to stay silent, do you, chaso?”._

Hearing Penthesilea call the hero of the trojan war an idiot once more, Crio felt the voice of the queen and the hero grinding his gears. In their talk, they completely forgot that the Rider and Berserker of Red were still around. They didn’t even pay attention to his little remark about the way Master and Servant behaved, cursing the fact that they heard every single word much more.

_“Why are you calling me an idiot? I am just glad they are not fighting anymore. The last thing I want is for sis to end her first relationship like this.”._

_“Chaso! Because you have no sense of delicacy, that is why! I may be queen and warrior, but also a woman and that was just tactless to interrupt like this! And don’t speak as if they are a pair. She is THE chaste huntress after all. It is no wonder that the only women you conquered were brainless idiots.”._

_“?! Okay, for once, no. I don’t know what these malakes spread about me while I was dead, but I did not travel from bed to bed. And if anything, if I shared a bed with you, I would be respectful.”._

Atalanta gazed at her elbow when she felt Crio shiver horribly.

_“I do not want to hear any more of the little scenarios swirling around your head. Or else, they can search for a new Rider right now.”._

_“You never even give me a chance to speak.”._

“Now I am not surprised Iskandar enjoyed the Illiad. These two would be buddies the moment they met.”, Crio mumbled under his breath.

His head began to burst from a massive headache the moment the both began the discussion inside his head, mixing with the memory of a huge Macedonian Rider travelling through the night sky of Fuyuki with a young boy at his side screaming from the top of his lungs before crashing into a battle between a green wearing Lancer, and a Saber in blue.

Clearing his throat, Crio spoke up. “I really do not need to know what you did with your women, Achilles. Much less am I in the mood to tell the priest that we lost him, so keep yourself in check, Penthesilea.”.

_“Bro, not you too! I swear I didn’t do anything!”._

“Didn’t you impregnate a princess at the age of 14?”.

_“By the gods, no! I mean, any man would have an affair at some point in their life, but I did not impregnate her!”._

Atalanta started to scowl up at her Master. ‘And that is the son of my comrade? Peleus, what has gone wrong?’. But the moment her hand lifted, a glare sculptured itself on her beautiful face. One so intense, it could have scorched the ground beneath her feet. Something inside of her cringed the moment Achilles pretty much accused her master to have slept with other women before. ‘Affairs. As if Crio would have just went and whored around. He is not like that. He is…’.

Touching her cheek, she glared at her boots in silent wonder why she felt that strongly. ‘He might have…Ugh…Damn you, brat! Now I cannot stop thinking about it!’.

Meanwhile, Crio massaged his temple. ‘Maybe I should just not tell him the princess had a son. At least, according to what I read. Or that what they wrote down he did to Penthesilea’s body after she was dead.’.

_“Why are you being silent?”._

“Nothing. Forget it.”, he groaned.

_“You know something. Tell me!”._

“ _Stamata,_ _koutsoúvelo!_ “, Atalanta warned the invisible Rider like an angry mother. The ‘brat’ flinched at her harsh tone. “If you pressure my master more, you will scream for your father after I am done with you!”. “Forget it, Atalanta…”, Crio brushed off. Atalanta shook her head. “No! I won’t! He is neither your Servant, nor your brother! He should show respect to those older than him.”.

“Really, just let him do what he wants. I have the feeling we will lose more than we earn if we keep fighting that.”.

Clenching the bridge of her nose, she tried to understand why her master decided to spare him. “Ugh, fine. Crio, you are much too soft.”, she answered with a faint smile.

She’d soon learn why though.

Taking a deep breath, Crio decided to give them all words of wisdom. “Achilles, let me give you one piece of advice I gave the Servants of the former war.”, he warned, clearing his throat a bit.

Never would he forget Medea’s pale face when she read up her own tale on the internet, the moment she found out what Crio was doing on a laptop. Souichirou was not there, so it was on him to soothe her when she faced the corner.

And he knew, if the Rider ever found out what was written what he did to Penthesilea, he would probably die from the inside out.

“Never…EVER…read up on yourself. The same goes for you and Atalanta, Penthesilea.”.

His words confusing and unsettling at the same time. Atalanta could feel whatever Crio read up, was nothing to be laughed at.

_“I don’t know what you are going on about…but I have the feeling that whatever I would stumble upon, would terrify me. At least from your tone…”._

_“Oh, come on, Pen. It can’t be that bad. Come on, Crio. Tell me!”._

_“If Crio warns us like that, then this could be potentially destructive. Also, if you shorten my name one more time as if I was your lover, your heel will be the least of your problems, ACHILLES!”._

“These two are going to be the death of me. I just know it…”.

“Then at least tell me beforehand, so I send these two off before they do you.”, Atalanta put in a bad joke. Not hearing even the slightest chuckle escape his pursed lips, she found him gritting his teeth. ‘Maybe I really shouldn’t joke. Medea already said I was bad at that…’, she remembered how the young Caster gazed at her with shake of her head. Atalanta still couldn’t help get slightly curious about what Crio read. But his sour look said more than enough. Though it was questionable if he just felt bad because of the stories or Penthesilea roaring inside his head.

“I think there is more to being chaste than not being allowed to marry someone you like…If you respected her oath, staying at her side should be no problem. But who am I kidding? I bet all people those days were thinking with what they had below instead of what was sitting between their ears.”.

Hearing his own, barely audible whisper, Crio quickly shook the imagination of a beautiful Atalanta clad in a white dress away…

…oblivious to Atalanta’s interested look as he massaged his temple.

A small blush crawled over her cheeks, followed by a warm smile. ‘That same remark you gave the first night. You seem pure in that regard. I wonder what I still learn about you, ‘master.’.

At least for now, his connection to Atalanta was stable.

Though Crio began to wonder if the one who summoned Berserker would be aware what exactly they unleashed.

Protected by the light of the moon, Crio and Atalanta resumed their walk, yet his mind returned towards the black knight.

The one that shouted the name of his King burning him from the inside out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more similar you are, the more it can hurt when you do something untypical. 
> 
> As an example, let's take Kiritsugu and Artoria. These two are fundamentally different. Artoria was summoned through a relic. She had a strong master and could fight with full strength in comparison to when she was with Shirou. But for that, there was no trust at all inbetween them.
> 
> While there was a catalyst included with Rin's pendant, her and Archer had trust in each other's abilities. In that regard, they were, in my opinion, one of the most dangerous teams in the Fuyuki Holy grail war. 
> 
> Crio is strong enought to fight with Servants. That much is clear. But he is extremely reckless. He doesn't mind being wounded as long as what he wants to protect is safe, as seen in the flashback with Medusa. 
> 
> It is not the same as with Shirou however. 
> 
> He could only rely on himself his entire life. Sitting by the sidelines was impossible for him. And that makes it all so much harder for Atalanta to protect him.
> 
> Now I'll continue travelling through France with Iskandar, Emiya, Penthesilea and Medea. My amazon queen decided to drop by to help this newbie :3 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter.


	12. Clearing the fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly the nights started to draw on Crio's strength. Two nights in a row he had been awake, pushing himself ever since Atalanta's summon. 
> 
> Barely any time to rest, one question would force him to elaborate on his past experience in the grail wars.
> 
> Who...is the Berserker of Black?

_“At least a little hint?”._

“…”.

_“Rider, leave it be already. Crio does not wish to talk. My gut is telling me whatever it, I will never recover from what I would unveil.”._

_“I think he is just making it worse for himself by not telling. Of course our lives get a bit murky down the line. But it cannot be that bad, right?”._

“Crio warned us clearly to not research our own history.”, Atalanta mumbled. She fed up from the Rider’s constantly pressuring her master. For answers.

A well-meant warning to never stick your nose in a book if you were a heroic spirit. Some of his friends in Fuyuki fell into that trap already aaaand…

Some needed emotional support after that. A lot.

And more and more the voice of the much too curious Rider started to grind Crio’s gears.

‘Just shut them out, Crio.’, he told himself. ‘You just had argument with your own Servant and were somehow able to settle the differences. Just ignore Achilles and Penthesilea.’.

Over and over he tried to shut the voices of the Berserker and Rider out, which sounded more like the bickering of a married couple than war heroes of the past.

It didn’t help that Atalanta behaved like the mother of this dysfunctional greek family.

“I swear, Achilles! I expect more consideration from the man that is the son of my dear friend!”, Atalanta warned one last time. A vein was ready to pop on her forehead the more she had to see Crio fight to keep his cool and slowly grind his teeth. The day had been too long and he had been awake ever since summoning his Archer. Sleep would be bliss right now, no matter how much of it he would be able to get. “What would Peleus say if he saw you behaving like a spoiled brat?”.

_“I heard he was always like this, Archer. For his strength, he was highly prone to egoistic outbursts.”._

_“Uhu. And from whom did you hear that from?”._

_“You admitted it yourself in front of Crio before? And one part of war is gathering information. I remember clearly that you had a dispute with Agamemnon.”._

_“Kuh…”._

_“Why so silent, ‘oh great hero’? Cat got your tongue?”._

_“For one, I can’t stand that asshole. I was never good with kings. What have I ever done to you, Penthesilea?”._

Teeth grinding, Crio prepared to endure Penthesilea’s enraged voice once more. ‘There we go again…’.

_“You know damn well what you did you, malaka! You dishonored me! You took every last bit of pride I had left in myself!”._

_“I do not understand what you mean! We fought and you lost!”._

_“You saw me as a woman in my final moments! Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to be seen as a woman instead of a warrior?!”._

_“Listen, Pen. We were at war andI-“._

_“Do not call me Pen! You have no right in the world to call me by that-“._

The moment Atalanta bared her teeth, ready to give them their last warning or she would use them as target practice, the temperatures seemed to drop below zero. Her body froze when ocean blue eyes turned as orange as the burning sun in the midst of the desert.

“WILL YOU TWO SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY?!”.

Atalanta shivered the moment Crio snapped. Wide-eyed, teeth bared, every muscle of his body ready for a brawl, he took shaky breaths to calm himself down. It was one small moment where he let his anger erupt without any restraints.

Normally a calm and collected person, It was hard to get Crio to burst just like that. Most moments were emotionally charged.

But Penthesilea and Achilles were enough to make the last aspect useless.

Unable to be seen in their spirit form, they were thankful when none could see them flinch from Crio’s intense reaction.

Body and mind calm again, he shook his head. “I swear to god…”, he muttered, clenching the bridge of his nose tiredly. “I already read a few times that he was a brat, but that is just icing on the cake.”.

_“I am not a-“._

“Skase, koutsouvelo! I am the one speaking right now and you will be quiet!”, he insulted the warrior as a spoiled child that didn’t know better than to annoy others. “I shouldn’t have said a single thing before. How you turned into a hero is beyond my comprehension. How someone like you can even be called a hero I cannot understand!”.

_‘But…I…’._

Crio did not allow a single chance to speak. “No! Listen closely. It is clear you two have issues and quite honestly, I do not give a damn about it.”, he put his foot in front of the invisible Servants. “I am out to win war. Not for me, but for Atalanta. So do me a favor and grow the hell up.”.

Though invisible, Atalanta felt that Penthesilea was amused at the Rider getting chewed out. Quietly the Rider endured.

How would you have reacted in front of one of Greece’s most famous heroes? Would you be overjoyed? Would show fealty and bow your head?

To Crio, Achilles was exactly as the stories depicted: A stubborn child in the body of a man.

Despite being disappointed how the Rider was so vastly different from Peleus, a part of Atalanta felt pity for the son of her friend. But another part of her knew that he had to get it together. Crio showed him the part of today’s time that was taught how he, despite having been one of the strongest fighters in the trojan war, was viewed as an idiot. A brash, arrogant child. And he needed to hear it, or else, even despite probably being one of the strongest assets to the Reds, would be taken out before he knew it.

But Penthesilea’s joy, Atalanta couldn’t comprehend. Her feud with Achilles was legendary, as was her final moment in his arms. Yet, there seemed to more than what Atalanta knew. ‘Dishonored…What did she mean by that?’, Atalanta wondered silently. ‘What did Achilles do, that she enjoys to see him suffer so much?’.

“You are not any better, Berserker!”.

The feeling of silent amusement was quickly broken as Crio lashed out with closed eyes. “Ever since we met, you have been insulting and verbally punching that idiot nonstop, to the point, me and Archer had to come and pick you up. I expected better of the queen of the Amazons.”, Crio violently lashed out with his sharp tongue. Crossing his arms, he resumed to walk away in a swifter pace than before. “Crio!”, Atalanta called out, worried over him barely able to contain himself. She let go of an exasperated sigh.

Just moments before they had a fight and reconciled. And now the constant bickering of the Rider and Berserker of Red finally broke Crio’s patience.

Silently presenting himself with a lowered head, Achilles apologized to Atalanta. “…Sorry, sis…”.

“Keep your apologies to yourself, Rider.”, Atalanta showed how sharp her own tongue was. “Is it too much to ask for you to behave? Is it even too much to ask for you to stop calling us in such familiar tunes?”.

“I don’t mean to insult you two. I just…”.

“I am not your sister!”.

With a sad look in his eyes, he silently bit his lip.

“I am not your older sibling, Rider, and I’ll never will be. The best I could be is a surrogate mother and if I was that, I would have already disciplined you to behave around people that could potentially kill you.”, she warned him with a sharp bite and venom in her voice. Turning her head away, she stared at her master’s broad shoulders.

And immediately she remembered how that very man retaliated against the mad Berserker.

“Though…He could have worded it a bit better. Do not take it as an attack. But value it as experience for yourself. Who knows.”, Atalanta muttered to herself. “Maybe that is his way of worrying about you.”. Achilles shook his head with a faint smile. “No. He views me as someone who could stand in the path of your wish. His words are as clear as the greek ocean. If I mess up and get you into trouble, he will coming for my head next time.”, came the slow answer as he rubbed his neck.

Barely Achilles had been able to stop Crio’s fingers from digging into Penthesilea’s neck before. It took strength to hold him.

Penthesilea showed their displeasure quite clearly to Atalanta, scowling at the white-maned master gaining more distance.

The Berserker’s hands clenched tightly.

Displeased by Penthesilea’s hateful glare, Atalanta stepped between her and Crio with a nasty scowl. Her eyes warned her to stop. Despite being a head taller than the queen, Penthesilea had no reason to be afraid of an Archer.

If a fight was to breakout out, Atalanta was delivered on a silver platter.

“Stop glaring at him like that.”. “You know, Archer…”, she whispered with an intense heat in her chest burning bright, threatening to turn her insides to ashes. “I have endured him calling me an idiot before. I did that out of respect of the connection between you two and for his intervention. I even endured him interrupting my fight against Berserker.”. In her mind, the black knight had been lucky, nothing more. Having her fight interrupted by Crio was shameful to her, but also cleared her mind about the master’s capabilities. “But keep his tongue in check or I’ll have to remove it.”.

Words unwisely chosen.

Atalanta’s eyes widened as she bared her teeth. “If you dare touch even a single hair on him, I will use your head as target practice.

Achilles shuddered at Atalanta vile tone.

Both women of Greece, both gifted and cursed with the same temper. The moment Atalanta’s bow appeared in her hand and Penthesilea’s claws, Achilles stepped between them. Though less out of worry for the woman he called sister and more out of Penthesilea getting mauled by Crio and Atalanta. “Hey, hey! Easy you two!”, Achilles tried to mediate between the two aggravated greek women. They were glaring through his body with silent, deep breaths, ready to solve this conflict with violence.

“We really do not need another fight here! Uhh…”.

Frantically looking around the more the air charged from the clash of green and orange, he shot a desperate look to Crio. “H-hey, bro! Do something!”, he begged. But Crio gifted him not a single second of attention. Biting his lips, he roared again. “Hey, Crio! Archer is your woman! Are you just going to let her and Berserker fight?! How about-Huh?”.

Muttering something to himself of hearing something obnoxious, Crio reached inside his back pocket of his jeans.

Achilles tilted his head in wonder at a small package. “What is he doing now? What is that?”.

Hearing the startled tone of the Rider, Atalanta snapped her head to Crio’s direction the moment she felt an ominous premonition.

She nearly snapped the moment her eyes caught side of his hand. And she knew the moment she caught a glimpse of the familiar dark brown package of his cigarettes. Silently she started gritting her teeth as her bow dissolved. ‘Oh, lady Artemis! Are you putting me on a trial here? First him and the queen, and now Crio is…Ugh!’.

Sighing, Crio shook the package to pull one out with his lips. ‘I swear. These two idiots are going to send me under the earth before these things do…’, he muttered, grasping the orange part with his lips. ‘What I wouldn’t give to just sit at the pier with a beer to share with Cu…or maybe Ouzo with Medusa and Medea.’.

And silently Crio groaned. ‘Maybe I should have asked Sakura to have Medusa accompany me. Maybe then Achilles would stay away from me.’.

Not even 5 seconds passed before he felt his will to smoke crumble, flinching at the reprimanding tune of a woman clearing her throat.

Nervously, Crio dared to glance.

And was face to face with Atalanta’s scowl extremely close to him, drumming on her upper arms in annoyance.

Penthesilea didn’t know what to be anymore.

Angry at Atalanta for baring her fangs at her; Crio for being disrespectful, Achilles for much, much deeper reasons…

…or completely flabbergasted at Atalanta staring up at Crio like an angry housewife that found her husband having come home much too late.

Or maybe having an affair?

It was hard to describe Atalanta’s expression.

Crio was sweating bullets against the intense look of the huntress. ‘Should I really try to fight her for the slim chance of smoke? Or should I give up and not risk an argument?’.

The longer he waited, the darker her expression got as she grumbled in annoyance.

Holding out her hand, she was very, very clear what Crio was supposed to do.

Achilles swallowed nervously when Crio sighed in defeat.

The cigarette put back into the box handed to Atalanta’s hand, it was cautiously put away in one of the inner pockets of Crio’s jacket she was wearing. With a satisfied nod, she grasped Crio’s wrist, pulling him away from the Berserker and Rider. She would have them get on his nerves a second longer. “I will hold onto them from now on. Seriously. Instead of killing your body from inside out, you should just punch the brat if he goes on your nerves.”.

“U-Uhm…Archer-“.

“Forget it. You will not get a single one.”.

“Uhm…Berserker?”, Achilles carefully asked. “Is it just me or…”. “No, you are not mistaken…I think?”, Penthesilea responded interested with her fingers tapping her chin. “A vow, huh? You could really think they eloped the moment they became master and Servant. Curious.”.

The thought of Atalanta having fallen for someone seemed to brighten the Rider’s mood as Berserker sighed with her arms crossed, before both vanished into spirit form.

At the front, Atalanta still didn’t let go of Crio’s wrist. More and more he started to feel uncomfortable with how she led him. “Atalanta, could you please let go of my wrist. I am sure one of these two is going to think something stupid.”, he asked, not only out of shame though. As the chaste huntress swore a vow to Artemis to keep her virginity until the end of her days, maybe even being seen with a man might cause trouble for her. “Atalanta?”.

“Let them think what they want. The brat is already thinking either way that we are a pair and you’d have to crush his skull to get it inside his head.”.

“Seriously, Atalanta. You can let go.”.

“Are you that worried about the perception of a child?”.

“N-No. I couldn’t care less what he thinks about me.”, Crio answered with a nervous stutter. Yet the very thought of him and Atalanta together made his heart beat faster than ever before. “But I know that you fought hard to keep up your oath. So…”.

With the faintest smile on her lips, Atalanta laughed softly. “Crio, you barely know anything about me. Once we have a bit of time to us, I will tell you my tale. But are you fine, Crio?”.

Slowing down her pace and lessening the strength of her grip, Atalanta shot him a worried look. “You have been awake ever since we met. You must be tired.”.

It was as if she casted magic on him with her caring voice.

As in that moment, Crio had to fight to hold back a yawn. A wave of tiredness overcame him. ‘Right…I have been awake for two nights in a row now.’, Crio lamented his lack of sleep, rubbing the sand out of his eyes. “I am fine. I will survive that meeting somehow.”. “That you say barely able to hold your eyes open.”, she whispered concerned. Out of the corner of her eyes, she found a bench, and cautiously led him towards it. Smiling up at him, she suggested: “Come. Rest at least a little bit.”.

Crio’s body was starting to scream for sleep.

Taking a seat beside him, Atalanta helped him sit up straight. But his exhaustion caused him sway a bit to her side.

He immediately jolted up the moment he was too close to her shoulder. But an arm wrapped around his shoulders tenderly pulled him towards her.

“Just a few minutes are fine…”, Atalanta giggled a bit at the slight hint of a blush. It wasn’t as if her own cheeks were heating up. Nervously gazing away, currently completely powerless against her, he muttered nervously: “I think I shouldn’t be that close to you. After all you-“.

“Seriously. Don’t mind what other people think. You said it yourself, right? That if you respected someone’s oath, staying close to them wouldn’t be a problem.”.

His own words were being flung back to him as she rubbed up and down his shoulder. “Rest for a few minutes. And don’t worry. I am here. And not only me.”.

The moment she said that, Penthesilea decided to make herself known again. Taking a good look at Crio’s face, she could find slight hints of sleep deprivation. “Archer, how long has he been without sleep?”. “Since my summoning.”, Atalanta answered swiftly. “There was no time for us to rest.”.

Despite herself still sour from his remarks earlier, Penthesilea conceded. ‘The less aware he is, the more he endangers Archer and us. Strong enough to fight a Servant, but still human enough to need rest.’ “Alright. I will keep an eye out on our surroundings.”, the queen shocked him. A hand on her hip, she seemed much more powerful than ever before as she analyzed their surroundings. Facing his curious blue eyes, Penthesilea smiled amused at his confusion. “A warrior cannot function without rest. Take a few minutes off. As long as I stand and breathe, no harm will come to you or Archer.”.

Atalanta smiled softly how Crio blinked at the glorious queen of the amazons providing protection. With a small smile on his lips, he conceded to Morpheus pushing him against Atalanta’s shoulder to use as a pillow. Despite having a rocky start with Penthesilea, feeling her strength round them, was somehow comforting.

With the last of his strength, he muttered something before falling to sleep. A small sentence that made the queen and the Archer freeze.

“Thank you…Berserker…and… _sighnomi…_ about before…”.

Surprised she gazed down as Crio’s lights went out. “Did he…just…”. Atalanta laughed amused up at Penthesilea’s surprise. Nothing could have prepared her for Crio suddenly apologizing.

Manifesting behind Penthesilea, Achilles shuddered the moment he saw something incredible. A small ray of hope in his life.

Warmth. A gentle smile on Penhtesilea’s lips as she accepted the apology.

Atalanta noticed a strange of mix of satisfaction and what seemed like…

…jealousy.

Rubbing the back of his head, he walked away. “While he gets a bit of sleep, I’ll take a look around. Berserker, stay close to them.”, he spoke callously before jumping over the rooftops.

While Penthesilea leaned behind the bench, taking in the purifying breeze the nights of Romania had to offer, Atalanta curiously glanced up at her. ‘That look on Achilles’ face…’, she remembered. That small glint of mixed feelings.

Happiness to Penthesilea smile. Jealousy for that smile to be have been sent towards Crio.

Silently taking notice, she thought to herself, watching Crio sleeping without stirs on her shoulder with soft breaths. ‘I will have to ask you a few things later, Crio. But for now, rest a few more minutes.’.

Gazing up at the moon, Atalanta was reminded of the night she swore an oath to her mistress. Even though it happened millennia ago, even here in the modern times, she felt herself return to that night in Arcadia.

‘Oh, lady Artemis. Goddess of the hunt.’, she prayed silently. ‘Please do not misjudge my deed. This is but mere care for a man that shares my desire. A kindred spirit I would call him. I am still but your humble servant. But even so, may I ask for your protection?’.

Wiping away a strand of white hair, Atalanta asked of the sphere shining down on them.

‘Please…bless me and Crio with your protection. Allow us to win side by side.’.

…

In front of the cathedral, Penthesilea gave Atalanta a look, asking her silently if Crio was up for this. “Crio, how are you holding up?”, Atalanta asked her master. Rolling his shoulders with an annoyed look, he gave a tired smile. “If you didn’t allow me to rest, I probably would have snapped at them at some point.”, he chuckled weakly. “Having Rider and Berserker watch out for danger is also appreciated. So…Thanks you two.”.

Showing his appreciation was awkward for him. He still remembered his own outburst and that they still protected him afterwards made him regret what happened before.

The amazon queen merely shook her head. “You said it yourself. Keeping loses to a minimum.”, Penthesilea brushed of the thanks, yet bearing a proud smile. “It would be a loss if we lose both Archer and a master that can avoid a Berserker’s attacks.”. Achilles grinned, clenching Crio’s left shoulder. “Don’t worry. As long as I am around, I’ll protect both you and sis.”, he assured him. Yet with a bit of a nervous smile. “Even if you don’t really trust me.”.

A regretful sigh out of his lips, Crio couldn’t help the slight chuckle. ‘Maybe I really went too far.’. Silently giving Achilles’ shoulder a playful punch to show his gratitude, Crio lead on towards the church’s doors.

Atalanta held back her urge to giggle at Achilles’ overjoyed look and Penthesilea keeping herself together to not insult him again, just for once.

Inside the cathedral, Crio couldn’t help the foul taste in his mouth the moment they stepped into the halls of the red faction.

Barely inside, Shirou Kotomine and the Assassin of Red greeted them with joyful looks.

Yet both disgusted him, only making doubt about their intentions swell up inside of his body.

Their smiles were like day and night.

One was soft, inviting. One of a gentleman that allowed you inside their home, offered you a cup of tea and snacks. Nothing malicious. But his words were pleasing to the ears and before you knew it, strings were attached to you.

Assassin’s was one of a proud queen, welcoming her soldiers back. Haughty, seeing her people as ants beneath her heel if they failed. Rulers like those he saw tyrannize their subjects much too often.

Neither Crio nor Atalanta had any trust to give the delighted pair in front of them.

Achilles gazed down at the quiet Penthesilea. The queen already felt her blood starting to boil from being on the receiving end of amused looks. Assassin congratulated both with widespread arms. “So, you were able to retrieve Berserker before she rushed into her death headfirst because of that fool behind her? Quite impressive, Crio. I had no doubts that you were a monster in the skin of a master, but you did not fail to deliver.”.

“Monster?!”, Atalanta hissed silently. Her lip was twitching, her sharp tongue ready to lash out at her. “Dare insult my master again, and I-“. But when she gazed at Crio’s arm in front of her, she found him not even paying attention to what could have been taken as an insult. Though what confused her was not that it seemed like it was just his tiredness that made him less aware. No.

He seemed outright bored by it. As if he had taken in the same food each and every day and being served for the thousands time was killing of his tastebuds.

Assassin’s words brushed by Achilles ignoring being called an idiot and Penthesilea only responded with a scowl, telling the black dressed Servant to keep her tongue in check before she’d lose it. Hearing Assassin of all people insult her twisted her stomach.

Achilles groaned the moment he noticed whom these words were meant for. “Huh. I have the feeling you like calling me a fool.”. “If Berserker isn’t doing it, don’t mind me taking up on her task.”, Assassin giggled. “After all, we are dealing with the hero that got himself shot by someone barely able to hold a bow.”.

Being the punching bag for the entire day made Achilles slightly grumpy. Getting lashed out by Penthesilea and having Crio and Atalanta glare at him was exhausting. Not to mention getting Crio’s booming voice shoved right inside his ear and being called an idiot from a greek of the present time was a blow.

Taking the first available seat, he sat down, throwing a leg over the other. “Sure. Sure. I am the idiot.”, he moaned.

“Glad we agree on at least that much, Rider.”.

“Sheesh. You are as lovely as jagged sword. I lament the guy who’s at your side.”.

Her maniacal smile only widened. “Oh, really? At least mine had respect for me. The only greek master here however has even forgotten you existed.”.

For once, Achilles gritted his teeth behind his pursed lips.

“Please, keep me out of this…”, Crio grumbled a disinterested answer. He didn’t straight out forget that the trojan war never existed. But out of everything that happened there, only Odysseus he really remembered and Peleus he straight out forgot that he was Achilles’ father.

Hurt from the words and remembering that day, Achilles blinked at Crio from the corner of his eyes like a disappointed child. He didn’t hold it against him, though having a greek of all people not realize who he is, had done a bit of damage.

As the banter between Rider and Assassin continued, Atalanta saw out of the corner of her eye how Crio barely held on. He clenched the bridge of his nose. Tiredness and regret both started to gnaw on him. He had barely any patience left and was exhausted.

His mental state was probably even worse off than before.

First the battle against the Berserker of Black making bad memories involving Artoria resurface, then his argument with Atalanta.

More than the battle, the argument had been heavy on his mind. And that worried Atalanta. Stroking his upper arm tenderly, she carefully whispered his name. “Crio?”. With a mumbled response, his eyes cracked open. Trying to stay optimistic, Atalanta gifted him a soft smile, understanding his exhaustion. “Try to keep yourself awake for just a bit longer. As soon as we are done here, you are allowed to rest.”.

He forced a smile, nodding thankfully at his Archer’s encouragement. If she wasn’t around, he’d have probably lost his patience already. But his reaction did not exactly encourage her.

Semiramis and Achilles stopped their argument the moment Atalanta loudly cleared her throat. Firmly taking all the gazes on her, she spoke up. “We came here to share what we found out, not to listen to Rider being your toy to pass time, Assassin, or the fact that he messed up to the point, new people of my country do not remember him or view him as an idiot.”.

“Sis!”.

“ _Skáse!”,_ he was harshly told to keep quiet. His body flinched inwardly, remembering the harsh tone she took before when she verbally fought with her master. “Since we met you behaved more like a child than a hero. I expect the son of my dear friend to show that there is more to his tale than the books tell. Or else, you needn’t be surprised that Crio views you as a fool. You are not a child anymore. So stop behaving like one.”.

Penthesilea couldn’t help smirking how silent Achilles actually got. ‘She is like a lioness punishing her cub. True to what the tales tell.’. Yet she couldn’t help remember Crio’s warning to never read up on themselves. ‘Never read up on ourselves, huh? Never investigate. I wonder why Crio does not wish to share what he knows. Besides that…’.

Walking right in front of him, she stared into his face.

Barely cracked open with a slight groan, Crio gazed down at Penthesilea, wondering what she wanted.

‘Even despite the few minutes of rest, he isn’t looking well.’, Penthesilea noticed swiftly. A warrior queen knew immediately when someone was pushing himself. Though his exhaustion seemed a bit more than she was aware of. ‘What is going on with him? He wasn’t that exhausted before. Was it that attack he landed on Berserker? Or was it the argument with Atalanta?’. With a glance over her shoulder, the queen shot the Rider a look that something was clearly wrong. Upon noticing how tired the Archer’s master truly was, Achilles didn’t feel well having him and Atalanta here.

Before Assassin could lift her lips to taunt the protective Archer, Penthesilea turned to her, earning curious looks. “I agree with Archer. It was a long night and despite what happened, Crio is still human. He needs rest. Archer won’t be able to act accordingly if her master is not in a good shape.”, she explained, crossing her arms in front of her. “Let us get this over with quickly.”.

The looks she got from the Assassin of Red brought a chuckle out of Achilles and a curious look from the Kotomine. “I am surprised to see you care for someone else besides yourself, Berserker. More so for the Master of someone else.”. “I may be Berserker in class, but I am still a queen that led her units into battle.”, Penthesilea responded coolly to Assassin’s curiosity with indifference. “And besides that, he earned my respect. Crio contributed more than you two sitting here all day long amidst the safety of these walls. So, let us hurry this along so they can return and get much deserved rest.”.

With a swift look over her shoulder, Penthesilea gazed into Atalanta’s eyes. “You could see this as me getting even with Archer and her Master.“. Atalanta swiftly noticed without much thinking that Penthesilea saw and felt her master’s exhaustion, giving a grateful nod towards the queen. Nodding in return, Penthesilea began. “I would like to start with a question to you, Crio.”.

Crio knew already what she wanted to know, without the question falling into the room. Taking a deep breath, he silently gestured for her to speak the question, even if unnecessary.

The black knight that so viciously fought. The one who took her blades from her waist and pressured her.

The hunting knight who screamed the name of a king into the dark sky over Romania, lunging at Crio the moment that very name graced his lips.

“Crio…Who is the Berserker of Black?”, Penthesilea put the question into the room. “Who is he? Why do you know him? And why do you know how he reacts once that name is mentioned?”.

A part of him lamented his current position. He would have wished to keep the identity to himself and take care of Berserker on his own. ‘I would have had to tell them sooner or later. Maybe now is the best time.’, Crio relented, taking another bench as his own together with his Archer.

Gathering his thoughts, taking a deep breath, Crio leaned against the backrest. His eyes briefly took in the picture on the ceiling, before falling shut.

It was time to unveil.

“I first met that Berserker way back in Fuyuki.”.

As his voice bounced back from the walls, keeping the tale inside for no ears to hear aside from those right here, Crio dove into the lake of memories.

“In the last 20 years, two holy grail wars took place in Fuyuki; the fourth and the fifth. It was pure coincidence that I stumbled into Fuyuki during the fourth war, before anyone is going to ask what I was doing there. I was following the trail of a murderer, which had turned out to be the master of that war’s Caster.”.

Shirou began to ponder a bit. “Right. I remember. There was a chain of children disappearing.”, he muttered. “I wasn’t personally there, but I heard Kirei was sent there as a master. He even returned alive.”.

Uneasy Atalanta crossed her arms. The mere mention of something happening to children, made her sick in her stomach and her blood running cold.

Meanwhile, the sound of bullets piercing and blades slicing the air rattled Crio awake.

The clash of two beliefs. Damnation and salvation.

“That is right.”, Crio remembered. Unfond memories bubbled up inside of him. “The cause was that Caster.”

His tense arms crossed with a deep breath.

“That bastard…Gilles de Rais was the cause of it.”.

The thick stench of death jabbed its way back into his nose. Foul, rotting flesh. Flies and bugs all around him. What he saw in the Caster’s workshop, he never forgot. He couldn’t.

He had seen such haunting sights before. You see many things over the lifespan of millennia, if you want it or not. More so, when your own hands were included. But never in such magnitude. How two men could cause such atrocities he could never understand.

Children, countless.

Mutilated, unrecognizable to the mere eyes.

Before he could even start to grieve, his widened eyes flared up the moment he had picked up the trail of the mad Caster. For what he did, for this sacrilege to life, the sole desire to make him suffer fueled Crio’s body to jolt out of the horrible torture chamber.

He however wasn’t the one who avenged them.

In the end, it was a beautiful golden light that banished the Caster from this world.

The light of a proud, caring king.

“Crio…Crio. You are paling…”.

Snapped out of his thoughts to his Archer’s caring voice, Crio shook his head, trying his best to forget the nightmarish sight of the tortured children. Touching his own cheek, he barely felt his freezing fingers.

The listeners got curious what Crio saw, that it caused him such distress.

All this time he never made the impression that there was anything that rattled him. Steadfast he faced anything head on. But if one dug deep enough, they would find something. Atalanta noticed upon his eyes falling upon the black armor, when the first drops of sweat rolled down his forehead.

And now he looked like his soul was sucked out of his frame, leaving an empty shell behind. Seeing him pale, as if he was dying inside, Atalanta felt the need to learn more about her master. “What did you see?”, she asked. He was suffering and whatever it was, Atalanta wanted Crio to share his pain with her.

How he cursed it right now.

That it was Atalanta who asked the question.

Crio stiffened, feeling her question stab into his side. Of all the people to ask, it was his own Archer, the child protector, who put the question out into the open that tore through his body. Her good will to support him, he cursed violently in his mind.

How he cursed his Archer to be such a gentle soul to him.

Shaking his head, Crio bit on his lip. “I cannot tell you that.”, he answered honestly, turning his eyes away from her. The last he wished for her was to suffer from that abominable sight as he did.

Atalanta scowled when he avoided her question. It was infuriating that he couldn’t see her into the eye. However, him not answering her worries aggravated her much more. “Crio. I am your Servant.”.

“I know. And I truly appreciate your concern. But I cannot tell you that.”.

“Crio, I am not a delicate flower.”, Atalanta reminded him of her status as a huntress. “Do you think am not used to gruesome sights? I was raised in the wild. Killing a boar and getting rid of its entrails is but a daily procedure. What did you-“.

Across from her, she noticed Penthesilea shake her head slowly. Achilles behind her motioned with his hand at his throat for her to stop asking.

She shouldn’t press on. No matter what, Atalanta should just leave it be.

No matter what Crio’s face was right now, it worried both Berserker and Rider to the point they stopped her.

Whatever he saw, he refused to tell Atalanta with every bit of fight he had inside of him. Under no circumstances would he allow her to suffer through that nightmare.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned back. “Alright. As you wish.”, Atalanta gave up. “You will have your reasons.”.

Crio nodded weakly with appreciation, the tone of his skin back to normal.

Atalanta wouldn’t forget the name of the murderous Caster that slaughtered children for amusement. But what exactly he did to make her own master refuse to speak, whatever sewed his lips shut, didn’t stop bothering her. Not if he began to shiver like that.

“Do not burden yourself alone. I am here, right? I told you.”, she whispered barely audible to anyone in the room.

“Gilles de Rais…”.

It was Assassin’s voice that Crio dreaded. Fingers on her chin, she began to ponder. “If I remember correctly, he was a french general, known to have mutilated children in a gruesome manner after Jeanne D’Arc was burned on a stake. It went from everything; Simple murder. Torture. Rape. An abominable creature that man. And he walked among the living again in the fourth war?”, she whispered unamused. The very imagination of that madman walking seemed to sour her mood. “It is no wonder that you refuse to tell. You must have seen things no normal human would survive.”.

Ears straight, Atalanta hoped she heard wrong. But the abominable acts were true.

Gilles de Rais was infamous for having spawned the tale of Bluebeard. Gone insane after light, the french saint was judged a witch and burned for sins she never committed, he resulted to abominable deeds to satisfy his grief.

Atalanta saw with great worry how Crio’s shoulders began twitching before he pressed his lips together, suppressing his anger as best as he could.

Agonized and tortured by the returning sight, Crio hissed at the woman. “You just couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, could you, Assassin?!”. The Assassin of Red turned a callous gaze to Crio gritting his teeth. “I was merely sharing what I know. If that depicted what you saw, then you cannot hold that against me.”.

Unable to look, he clenched his eyes shut when Assassin broke down his hope to keep it secret from Atalanta.

The Archer shivered softly. Imagination could be a curse. She now understood why Crio didn’t want to talk.

It was to protect her.

Frowning, the inside of his stomach twisting in agony, Crio covered his mouth. Never would he forget.

The side of a girl in front of his boots.

Bare. A clean cut was on her stomach where her entrails were pulled out. Her eyes were missing and her mouth open.

A silent scream of despair up at him.

One of her hands clenched the edge of Crio’s shirt as she took a deep breath. ‘You…tried to spare me…’, she thanked him quietly. But his mental state worried her even more now. Crio would probably be unable to sleep with that image in mind again. “It’s okay…”, she whispered gratefully. “You tried to protect me from nightmares. I appreciate it. But if something pains you…tell me.”.

No matter how old you may be, if one of your sole desires in life is to protect children, seeing how humans are able to create such gruesome drawings with the pain being the blood of innocent lives…

…even the strongest men would start to quake in their boots.

And that horror would twist and morph to hatred as ugly as the Hydra.

Penthesilea was completely speechless. While Atalanta tried to lift Crio’s spirits as he fought the image of children crucified against pillars, Penthesilea bared her teeth at the Assassin of Red. “That was on purpose, Assassin!”, came an aggressive growl. The black dressed Servant coldly received the burning anger of the greek queen as she jumped up from her seat. A hand was on the grip of her sword. “I have no idea what you mean. Berserker. How am I supposed to know what he saw there?”. With a click of her tongue at the innocent response, as innocent as Assassin could be, Penthesilea cursed her. But not without glancing behind to see Achilles shake his head with a glare of his own. “Bullshit.”, he whispered. “Words were chosen much to precisely. You were gauging his reaction.”.

Removing his hand from his pursed lips, Crio took a deep breath. “Let me just continue so we can get his over with, okay?”, Crio breathed out before returning to the topic at hand. But he knew he would be having nightmares tonight.

Gazing down at Atalanta, he nodded that he was fine. Though she didn’t seem fully convinced. Her hand stroked his arm with the back of her fingers, silently speaking her support. “While he was the reason for me being there, I decided to stay there myself to see what was the source of this chaos. And while there, I met a few of the Servants.”, he recounted the aura of dignity and charisma.

It still lingered inside of his mind. The meeting of kings.

“Some of them I would never forget.”.

A man of a mighty stature appeared in front of him. A large hand was wrapped around the slim shoulders of a nervous boy, frail in comparison to the king at his side with a beard as red as flames of courage and a contagious grin that would make people follow him in a heartbeat. Holding a golden cup, he eagerly drank the wine.

“The great conqueror king, Alexander the great, also known as Iskandar. He was the Rider of that war and one of the strongest Servants.”.

The cup fell, spilling the expensive wine of the king. A terrifying, flamboyant laugh cursed the amusing image.

As the spilled wine faded, a golden gleam sparkled amidst it, forming the magnificent armor of the second king. Piercing red eyes glanced over the shoulder with hair matching the splendid golden armor that stung to those unworthy to gaze at it. His back turned to Crio, the man laughed, yet what he held in his hand, a sword of red and black, was what killed the greek king.

“The king of Uruk and oldest of legends, Gilgamesh. An Archer that didn’t use a single bow, instead using his treasure as projectiles.”. Crio’s sighed softly. The small, feeble whimpers of Iskandar’s master still lingered inside of him. “He was absurdly strong. The strongest Servant I ever met…and one I wished to strangle more than anyone else aside from Caster.”.

As the king faded in Crio’s mind, another took his place. A warm golden light surrounded him. A light belonging to a young woman. Dressed in royal blue, her magnificent blade stabbed into the ground that radiated with such purity, she opened her eyes, gifting him a warm, thankful smile. Holding her hand out to him, she waited for her friend to reach out to her.

A small smile spread on his lips.

“And then there was the king of knights…Arthur Pendragon…Saber.”. The group watched his smile widen. His color regained, Crio chuckled softly. “Arthur Pendragon was a magnificent Saber. Courageous and with a heart of gold, he was arguably the most powerful Servant in that war. Nothing would have stopped the sword of victory. There was only one reason Saber did not win that war. But that doesn’t matter right now.”.

Eyelids opened, he gazed around to take in the different reactions.

Penthesilea and Achilles exchanged an impressed look at the name of the conqueror king falling. “Iskandar, huh?”, Penthesilea whispered the name of the king. “I heard he made quite a name for himself during his lifetime. From Greece to the lands in the east. He fought and battled a lot. He must have made a bigger impression on you than the guy behind me did.”. Crio snorted a bit how Achilles started sulking. After all, Iskandar was born long after the both of them. What the Rider of Red didn’t know however, was how much his own tale inspired the Iskandar’s life. Silently, Crio decided to leave that for another time.

Meanwhile, Shirou worried over Assassin suddenly biting her nail in silent frustration, making Crio wonder why. “What is wrong, Assassin?”, he asked, receiving her golden eyes in the form of a thrown spear into his head. “You say you met the king of Babylon, Gilgamesh?”, she asked as if looking for assurance.

A displeased look on his face, Crio confirmed. “Yes, I met him. A typical king sitting on his throne and seeing subjects as nothing but resources to take from. That is what he was.”, he groaned, remembering every time he had to see him.

Every time Gilgamesh grinned when Artoria despaired, pissed him off. He was the reason her wish for Britannia’s safety started to morph to a wish of never having been selected as a king.

He was also the reason for the weeping of Iskandar’s master.

Hands clenched, Crio warned with venom in his voice. “If every royal of Babylon is like that, then don’t mind me killing them off soon.”. But with a curious look, he returned with a question of his own. “Why do you care about my opinion of Gilgamesh?”.

Composing herself once more, she exchanged a look with her master, earning his favor with a small nod.

A hand on her chest, the black-haired beauty’s voice cut into the night. Strength and pride coursed through her.

“I am a queen of Babylon myself.”, she announced proudly. His blood immediately began to boil, needing a deep breath to be suppressed.

“The Assassin of Red, her name is Semiramis. Do well to remember that name, Crio.”

Crio’s dark look told stories of how the revelation of her true name didn’t exactly earn his trust.

Semiramis’s legend was known to him. The child of a fish goddess, abandoned by her mother.

In that regard, her and Atalanta were similar.

Semiramis was said to have returned the old Babylon to glory. But as of this moment, with having seen Gilgamesh himself and what he was capable of, Crio couldn’t trust her. He wouldn’t, even if she were his own Servant. “I reserve my right to judge you separately, Semiramis”. “Do so. You will see how different I am to that king you so loathe.”, she proudly announced. “You will see that I am superior to the king of heroes.”.

Penthesilea understood her desire to prove herself to the legacy of the old king.

The way Crio mentioned Iskandar’s name showed that Crio held respect for the conqueror. As a queen herself, having been at the end of Crio’s rant while he spoke of another royal with reverence just now, she felt a desire to prove herself as the queen of the amazon tribe. Iskandar wasn’t the only greek king deserving of respect.

And no matter what Gilgamesh did, he was on Crio’s bad side. That much Penthesilea knew and more she didn’t need.

Only one thing mattered to Achilles right now. And that was the respect Crio seemed to have the old king of Macedonia. A Rider himself and one of the strongest Servants in the fourth holy grail war. Hearing a greek have respect for a king that came long after his lifetime and yet barely glimpse at himself stung harshly.

In all of this, Atalanta had been incredibly quiet. On name she would not soon forget. Not with the softness let the name wander over his lips.

“King…Arthur…”, she recited the name with great respect. How Crio’s voice shook with anger as the black armored knight began to grow insane when the king’s name fell. And then hearing it again as Crio remembered Artoria’s smile. “Crio, the way you spoke about king Arthur…can I assume that you have great respect for him?”.

His adam apple bobbed slightly. Warmth in his chest forced his lips to curl up as the sweet waves of memories washed over him.

Whenever he would sleep over by the Emiya’s for a night, either because it was late or he was incredibly tired, Artoria would come inside to wake him up. They would spar in the dojo before being lured towards the table by her master’s cooking, the orange haired youth smiling as Crio helped him to carry it all to the table. Fuller and fuller the table would get when Sakura, Medusa, Rin and Archer would join. Sometimes even Cu would sit with them and Illya beside Shirou.

His heart stung a bit. It was barely able to be sensed, but…he knew he missed it.

He missed that feeling of belonging somewhere.

Be it at the chaotic table of the Emiya’s with Rin being at the end of Archer’s tease, Sakura and Illya speaking about Shirou, making him blush. Cu stealing another piece of meat from Artoria’s plate, laughing at her ranting.

And Medusa speaking to Crio in greek, making him feel right at home and getting him to open himself up to his roots once more.

Once he received a home by Medea at the Ryudoji temple, he felt like he truly had a small family to return to. Every morning she’d come inside to wake him up with a smile. He’d go and get his coffee, while Souichirou always asked why he wouldn’t eat breakfast with them. And he’d always answer with a small grin, that he wouldn’t get between the morning ritual of a pair. Crio loved how Medea would blush, but also tell him that there is always a spot on the table for him, if he ever decided to join, and that she’d gladly cook more.

They felt like his family. Both the Saber’s family as well as Medea and Souichirou.

For a second, his gaze turned to Atalanta’s chest.

More precisely, how she felt it…

…the pocket of his coat over her left breast.

Touching the spot, she felt the small box again, making her wonder again, what is inside there.

If she knew that inside there was the ring, the heart of her dear friend, the one she views as a true sister, Crio didn’t know how she would react.

Would Atalanta smile in joy, hearing her friend to be alive?

Would Atalanta cry from hearing what Medea went through after the huntress was gone?

With a soft smile, Crio leaned back. “Yes…”, he admitted with a weak chuckle. “I respect Arthur a lot. Arthur, Iskandar and many others.”, he cryptically spoke of the greeks and the masters at home. Even though him and the red Archer were not the best of friends, he respected the bowman. “Though there were a few things that irked me at the beginning, that king was worth the respect given in the days of Camelot.”.

The warmth faded.

A mere second, he felt the blistering heat of the fire in the parking lot once more.

And again, that harrowing howl.

A man with violet hair. A handsome face, women would feel themselves drawn to the instant he smiled, contorted into with madness carved into his flesh.

Once an honorable knight, reduced to nothing more but a monster, facing the king whose heart began to bleed.

One, Artoria considered her dearest friend as she plunged her sword through his body.

“One Servant I met was on a constant hunt of the king.”, Crio resumed with a dead look in his eyes. “At first his goal was Gilgamesh. A desire by his master as he had a vendetta against Archer’s own. But whenever Arthur appeared, everything else was uninteresting to him.”.

“I noticed.”, Penthesilea confirmed, leaning back with crossed arms. “The moment you spoke the name, Berserker seemed to go into a frenzy. You were precisely aiming for him to target you.”. “A frenzy you call that?”, Achilles dully noted. “That monster lost it completely. He is more of a Berserker than you are, Penthesilea.”. “That is the sole thing we agree on.”, Penthesilea admitted, turning her attention back to Crio. “He ignored everything and everyone to pierce your throat.”.

Taking a deep breath, his gaze up at the ceiling…

…the name of his opponent wandered over his lips.

“That knight…is the knight of the lake…”.

The moment he spoke…

“Sir Lancelot of the round table.”.

He heard the Berserker’s howl inside his head once more as he lunged for Artoria. A violent scream that froze her marrow.

Atalanta noticed how Crio’s voice began to tremble. Though not out of fear.

His nails were digging into the white sleeves of his shirt in pure frustration from the painful memories.

How he wished to not have to see Lancelot again. Not after having seen how it pained Artoria to the point it twisted her wish to be unrecognizable.

From saving her country…

…to undo her selection as a king.

In silent comfort, Atalanta stroked Crio’s upper arm a bit, now knowing a bit more about her master. She never knew how to properly soothe someone. With girls, it was easy. She could hug Medea, pat her head a bit, wipe a tear away. It was different with a male, especially given her own unrecognizable feelings.

Would a hug be too much? Would stroking his cheek make him flinch?

She didn’t know, so she tried her best to soothe without giving the wrong impression. But one thing left her no rest. “Crio, I have a question.”. Blue eyes on her, he allowed her to ask. “That scar on your back…was that from Lancelot?”.

Penthesilea’s eyebrow rose. ‘She mentioned something before about him having been injured by a Berserker before.’, she wondered. Achilles’ eyes wandered over Crio’s scarred lower arms. ‘He is covered from head to toe. I wonder…is that scar on his back truly so bad that sis worries about him?’.

That scar was one of the reasons Atalanta had no desire to let Crio fight Berserkers. One abominable wound up from his shoulder, across his back and ending at the waist. A gift from Heracles himself as Crio protected Shirou and Artoria from being turned into minced meat.

Another wound that would torture him for long.

Shaking his head, Crio answered her question: “No. That one is from the Berserker of the fifth war.”. He hoped his answer was enough.

“Who was it?”, Atalanta coldly pressed on.

He didn’t wish to talk about her old comrade now. Averting his eyes, Crio sighed tiredly. “Atalanta…can we talk about that another time?”.

Her patience has been growing thin. “You have been avoiding that question once already. I want to know who did this to you!”.

Her question got curious looks, if not for her frustration making her voice tremble. Crio’s eyes widened the moment she leaned forth, grabbing his shoulder. “Why are you denying to let me know who caused you that? Does it have something to do with me? Is it someone I know?”.

The Servants and priest noticed how Crio had huge trouble speaking. Even looking at her was hard. In no way did he want to tell her that it was her comrade, Heracles, who was the cause of it.

More silence she barely endured. “I allowed you to keep quiet about Caster, but I do not accept you denying me knowledge of who did this to you!”.

“Sis. Don’t pressure him so much.”, Achilles asked of her in worry. “Didn’t you just say that your master is tired? How about just finishing the rest? I am sure he will tell you at some point.”.

“You stay out of this, brat!”.

Atalanta vicious response made him flinch. 

It was a matter of heart to the huntress.

Penthesilea wondered what her intense reaction was all about. “Is that wound so horrible that you can get so frustrated over it?”.

Her hand on her chest, Atalanta growled not only at him, but every pair of ears lent to her. “My master was struck by a Berserker before. It is turned into a horrible scar on his back. If that wound had killed him, I wouldn’t be here in this very war to fight. If Lancelot struck him there…”.

Crio didn’t need to imagine. If somebody struck him there, the immense pain would paralyze him enough for even the slowest weapon to be able to take his head.

“I have every right to know what bastard Berserker did this to him. Crio, speak to me. Please.”.

Atalanta gazed up at Crio harshly. Her eyes relentlessly burrowed into his blue ones, searching for the identity.

They would keep going until they found an answer.

Pursing his lips, Crio begged silently for Atalanta to understand. He didn’t want to keep it from her. But telling her right now that it was Heracles and he was alive, he wanted to tell that with the good news of Medea being in this world. He wanted to tell that Medea would marry.

His eyes had a sad look to them.

Sad…and tired.

Tired of so many things, and missing his family at home. And that feeling of loneliness didn’t resolve with seeing Atalanta’s face every time, reminding him harshly about Medea and Souichirou.

Scowling, Atalanta realized she wouldn’t get it out of him today. But more than that…

…she didn’t like that look. It reminded her of an old warrior that was ready to let go, once and for all.

Biting her lips, she sighed. “Promise you will tell me…no matter when that may be.”. As long as she’d to know which Berserker struck her master, she’d at least be able to visualize her target. “I will be patient and not ask anymore. But for that, when the time is right…tell me, so I can at least put my mind at ease.”.

That Berserker that nearly took her chance away, she would hate for eternity and hunt to the ends of the earth if he ever showed his presence.

Receiving a slow nod, Atalanta’s barrage ended, allowing him to breathe again.

Crio was nervous to speak about Heracles, not knowing how she would react. He was one of the mightiest greek legends in history. And his strength as a Berserker was real.

The priest shot Semiramis a command with his eyes. With a nod, she approached the Archer and her master. “We told you about our Saber, right? The Saber of Red?”, Semiramis reminded him of their last meeting.

With a nod, Crio crossed his arms again. The Saber of Red was still shrouded in mystery. His identity was unknown and much like Crio and Atalanta, Saber and his master immediately went their separate ways.

“You weren’t able to discern his identity, right?”.

“Exactly.”, Semiramis affirmed with a doubtful look. “Saber and his Master…They had separated themselves from us as well. While we couldn’t find out Saber’s identity, we know one thing.”.

Atalanta’s eyebrow rose. “And what is that supposed to be?”, the put the question in the room.

Slowly the poisonous golden eyes closed.

“Going from Saber’s heavy looking armor, he is a knight as well.”.

Somehow a chill went down his back. A bad feeling made his stomach turn the moment he thought about the slightest possibility. A piercing blue glare met Semiramis’ head on. “Do you suppose he…”, Crio wondered. A faint smile spread on the Queen’s lips. “Fate is whimsical, Crio.”, Semiramis sung a bit. Her hands theatrically outspread, she twirled on her heels.

“Take a look around you. You have Penthesilea standing side by side with the man that killed her.”.

The queen in question gritted her teeth as the hero’s eyebrows dropped. Her words brought up something Achilles didn’t want to remember.

Again, he was at the edge of the orange orbs of the queen. No matter what exactly occurred between them, Penthesilea bore an immeasurable hatred.

“You yourself have summoned an Archer as you wished. Maybe even the Archer you wished for?”.

An annoyed click of his tongue, Crio watched as Semiramis seemed to enjoy how she charged the atmosphere inside. Yet Atalanta had a pondering look on her face as her heart began to pound. ‘Me? The Archer he wished for?’.

Reminded of his expression, that first night from pure disbelief, her hand clenched in front of her.

‘Me…He was surprised to hear who I was, but…’.

Her focus shifted, from the unknown Saber, up to her master’s scowl, yet hiding her curiosity beneath a cool façade. ‘Did Crio…truly desire to meet me?’.

But Semiramis’ joyous smile faded. The look of a hardened, ruthless queen, she turned around. “Why shouldn’t that knight be another one of the round table? If the knight of the lake is with the Blacks…”. “…there might be a possibility of that knight to be Gawain…”, Crio thought of the first person possible person.

The knight of the sun. A noble warrior, loyal to the king. An honorable knight that lost his brother to Lancelot when he tried to safe Guinevere from being executed. If anyone had hatred for Lancelot, it would be Gawain.

Atalanta started to worry when Crio’s scowl edged itself deeper on his face.

‘Could that knight really be Gawain?’, Crio wondered, finger tapping on his chin. ‘I cannot imagine anyone else that could have a potential bone to pick with him. I need to read up on Artoria’s legend…again…’.

However, he was unable to hold it for long.

Tiredness washed over him, forcing him to yawn into his palm.

It was finally too much for him.

On the other side, Achilles joked. “I know that this is boring, but keep it together!”. Penthesilea rolled her eyes as he couldn’t help his witty remark, swiftly earning himself a glare from Atalanta. “I’ll have you know, again, that my master has been up for days and nights, brat.”, she punctured him with a thousand arrows shot from her emerald eyes, making him flinch again. Gazing Crio over as he rubbed his eyes, Achilles wondered if part of his rage before came from him just being exhausted. “Wow, you really don’t look too good. Take better care of yourself. You have sis to look after.”.

“You really are the last person I want to hear that from, Achilles.”, Crio muttered darkly. “I know where my limits are. I am not going to put Atalanta in danger…not again.”. Inside Crio’s, Achilles’ worried look twisted to that of the chastising Rider back at home. Her glasses only made her eyes more marvelous. ‘That is the second Rider that tells me that. Sheesh…Medusa must be so tired of me…’, he ruefully smiled at the irony. Medusa sometimes followed him on his missions to make sure he wouldn’t over exhaust himself.

Opening his eyes, Crio found himself having caught various worried looks.

Amused how Crio seemed to dislike being in the center of attention, Shirou chuckled a bit. “Then let us speed things up a bit.”, he started, waving at Penthesilea. “For one, I appreciate that you returned both Berserker and Rider without any injuries or losses on our side. Both are great legends and valuable to our cause to stop the black faction. In that regard, I want to speak out my appreciation.”. Lowering his head respectfully, the priest’s face twisted in worry. “But we noticed that something strange happened. Or to be more precise, Lancer noticed.”.

“Lancer?”, Crio asked curiously. He had met nearly all Servants of the red faction aside from three.

Saber, Lancer and Caster.

Saber was acting remotely with his master.

Caster was nowhere to be found.

And Lancer, he had yet to meet.

In a show of gold and red lights, a new person formed in front of them.

A man with wild white hair. A red cape made of feathers waved behind him, clashing with his sky-blue eyes. His mere appearance was striking with valor.

And those adapt enough to feel mana…

Crio and Atalanta clearly felt the pressure coming of this new Servant. Him more than her. It felt like he could provide Gilgamesh a challenge.

Shirou waved at the newcomer’s gaze clashing with Crio’s weary ones. “Crio, may I introduce. That is our Lancer.”.

The man stepped forth with confident steps. Despite his hard to read expression he bowed respectfully to the pair. “My name is Karna.”, a calm voice introduced itself. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Master of Archer.”.

‘Karna…’, Atalanta recited the name in silent awe. ‘The child of the sun in indian mythology. We have such an incredible Servant?’.

Noticing the stare, Karna gazed at Atalanta. Intensely he mustered her with a warrior’s look from top to bottom. “Another Grecian Servant. I heard of you from Rider.”, the Lancer of Red responded to her awe, earning a curious tilt of the head. “What did he say about me?”.

“He said something about our Archer being an incredible Servant and the man who called her was someone special, having called you upon without the need of a relic.”.

Crio and Atalanta exchanged a look before gazing at the opposite row towards the Rider. Upon noticing the looks he got, Achilles quickly turned his head away. With a small laugh at the childlike behavior, they returned their attention towards the child of the sun. “It is good to meet you, Karna. You are far off from a Lancer I know.”, Crio chuckled.

The mere mention of the class and he had to think of a blue wind hunting from across the rooftops with claws and eyes of scarlet. The hound of Chulainn that would hunt and protect fiercely, his red spear ready to pierce any heart.

Fixing his glare, Crio asked the impressive Servant. “Something happened while we left you said?”.

Karna nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. “Exactly. It happened shortly after the four of you left the battlefield.”.

All attention was solely on his thoughtful face.

“The Saber of Black…is gone.”.

Untangling the fingers behind his head, Achilles gazed at Karna in shock. “Wait, gone? You mean he is dead?”.

Not feeling it necessary to speak more, Karna silently nodded.

Penthesilea couldn’t explain to herself why the Saber of Black was gone. “From what I saw before I attacked Berserker, that Saber didn’t seem like the type to ruin himself.”, she wondered about this sudden turn. “He was fighting Achilles together with their own Rider, while I was fighting Lancelot.”. “Yes. Every strike of his was strong and aiming for potential weak points.”, Achilles resumed, clicking his tongue. “Do you think he killed himself, Berserker?”. “Hardly. He didn’t seem like the type to beget suicide.”, she threw back coldly. A warrior like him killing himself seemed ridiculous.

“But it is still a possibility, Penthesilea.”, Atalanta responded to her confusion. Crossing her arms, she explained, gazing up at her master’s surprise. “There are multiple reasons for a Servant to ruin themselves. Dissatisfaction with the master or the master himself ordering the Servant to kill themselves for disobeying. Remember what I said before, Crio? If I didn’t see you as my equal, or rather, if you had ridiculed my wish, I would have killed you without a second thought.”.

“Yes. I remember.”, Crio replied quietly. He was still a bit unsure if he was a master worthy of her. He still considered Rin a better option. But the meager reply casted a faint smile on her lips. His heart pounded loudly in his ears. “No need to worry. I can safely say, I am satisfied with you as my master. I couldn’t wish for a better one, knowing now that you can fight on par with Servants. As long as you do not act like that again, I will stay right here with you.”.

She said that she didn’t want another master the moment he mentioned to try and provide her with someone she could trust in. That, Atalanta proved right here and now in front of all. With a light heart, Crio’s lips curled up with a nod of fully accepting his role.

Karna gazed between the two and upon feeling the curiosity, they both looked at him funny.

Silently the Lancer turned his head to Penthesilea and Achilles, both whom nodded with faint smiles on their faces, knowing more than the pair themselves seemed to.

But a certain someone couldn’t keep his chuckle in check, leaning his face against his fist. “Sis, maybe you should keep your flirting between you and your master when you are alone.”, he laughed at their cost. “You are giving ideas with all those people here.”.

Crio sighed as Atalanta stood up without another word.

On the receiving end of his jokes, she and Crio endured over and over. And now…

…the chaste huntress had enough.

She was incredibly fast.

In a matter of seconds, Achilles felt the wind rush past him.

And the arrow she shot firmly lodged in the wall behind him.

“Another comment like that, Achilles…”, her cold warning shot right between his eyes. “Actually, any kind of suggestive remark about me and my master, you will get a spanking and will wish to be back with your father. Understood?”

Comfortably sitting back down beside her master rubbing his temple, Atalanta shook her head in pure disappointment, thinking about her old comrade and friend.

And while the Rider sweated at the very real warning, a dark grin of the Berserker queen told how much she enjoyed seeing the Rider pressured.

For Karna however, it seemed that the actions of Atalanta spoke louder than the nods of the other two greeks. With a satisfied grunt, he closed his eyes, yet only confused Crio and Atalanta more.

He understood more about them than they themselves did.

“As of now, we only know that he has vanished. Something is going on within the black faction.”, Karna continued to Shirou. “Aside from that, I felt Ruler nearby.”.

More annoyed than ever, Crio groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. His brain was ready to shut down already, and now another person was brought up.

Ruler.

“Okay…I’ll bite. Who is Ruler? Is that a new class or something?”, he with the strength in his voice fading. Noticing how much Crio fought to stay attentive, Atalanta started to worry. Him telling of the fourth holy grail war was already more than enough.

Clearing his throat, Shirou explained his concern. “Since there is no real supervisor like the church in the fourth and fifth holy grail war you are used to, the holy grail summoned a Servant to take that place. That Servant is the most powerful of all in this war and is not allowed to take sides. That is who a Ruler is.”.

Crio’s hand slowly slid of his face, groaning into his palm. “Great. This is going to cause me a lot of headaches tonight.”, came a quiet, disgruntled moan. He knew he wouldn’t need to worry about that nightmare. Not with having his mind busy on that new Servant that was able to rule over all.

“So we have one extra Servant in addition to the 14 we already have…or rather 13, considering that the Saber of Black is dead. And that Servant is absurdly powerful and supposed to stay neutral. Fantastic.”, Crio weakly chuckled at the irony of the one having judge being the strongest. ‘If that had been the case with Kirei, the entirety of Fuyuki would have been wiped of the map’.

The weak chuckle creeped Semiramis and Shirou out while gaining curious looks from Achilles and Penthesilea.

But the moment he sighed, feeling more of his strength fade, Atalanta knew that he was just too tired.

Atalanta, keeping her voice low, worried. “Crio, are you okay?”. The forced smile on his lips was more than enough of an answer.

He tried to stay strong and not embarrass his Servant. But she only shook her head at his stubbornness. ‘Fool. He is completely exhausted.’.

Uncaring of the rest, Atalanta stood up first, brushing by her master and taking his hand, supporting her startled partner as he got up. “I think that is enough for a night.”, Atalanta called an end, grabbing his jacket to put it on herself.

Shirou and Semiramis watched curiously. “Uh…I still have a bit of information to cover about Ruler.”. “Tell that to Berserker and Rider. They can tell us next time we meet, when he is back up and rested. Anything you’d say now I feel he would forget.”, Atalanta showed the priest her cold shoulder. “If that is all for tonight, we’ll take our leave. If something happens, you can call master on that strange device he has.”.

Her attention back on her master, she smiled softly, leading the stupefied man towards the door and ignoring some of the amused looks. “Come, master. Let us return for tonight. I’ll make some more roasted apples and then you can rest. It is easier to sleep with a full stomach.”.

Crio’s face heated up into a red color not even apples could compare to.

“I told you not to-“.

“If it helps you stay awake, I will continue to call you that, master. Oh, and before I forget.”.

Turning around, she warned the cause of tonight’s ruckus. “You and the brat behave. I don’t wish to have to go through this again.”. Penthesilea only rolled her eyes in annoyance. Achilles on the other hand winked at them. “Don’t worry, sis. I’ll make sure she doesn’t run off again. I don’t want to disturb your and bro’s time alone. And the last I want to interrupt is a proposal.”.

“Seriously, would you stop calling us that? We have names and we are not your family. Behave more like your father, just for once. And if that arrow was not warning enough…”.

“It is just my sign of affection to the both of you. Don’t mind it too much. I just like seeing you two as family. Have fun you two!”.

Grinding her teeth, Atalanta wanted to bark back, but Crio tiredly shook his head that it was not worth it. Sighing at her master’s lack of care, she decided to bear this with a soft smile, leaving for their camp.

But as soon as they were gone and the door shut…

Penthesilea stood up, standing between the priest, Semiramis, Karna and the door. She had felt on edge the entire time of this discussion.

“Did you know about what happened, priest?”, Penthesilea glared at the soft smile. “Partly. Lancer didn’t see the battle you all were in. But he said he felt concentrated mana exploding. Care to enlighten us about the battle?”, he asked, holding his hand out towards new info. Anything was valuable at this point.

Not trusting the priest’s smile in the slightest, she exchanged a look with Achilles who stood behind her. Despite always seeming careless, for once he carried the look of a hero on his face with the desire to protect, bearing a worried glint.

The amazon queen nodded, beginning to explain their meeting with the black Servants.

And all the while, Semiramis glared at the door. ‘These two…could become problematic if left alone...’. Her finger drummed on her upper arm.

While she partly listened to Penthesilea’ explanation, Karna silently observed the red faction intrigued.

Outside, taking in the fresh night air, Crio sighed, followed by a loud yawn.

Deprived of two nights of sleep, he tried to walk straight as best as he could.

But upon nearly stumbling over his own two feet, Atalanta held his arm, steadying him. “Don’t worry. I’ll support you.”. “Thanks…”, she received quiet gratitude. Crio only wished to silently sink into the ground, embarrassed beyond belief. Atalanta didn’t dare let go of his arm, supporting him on every step. “Crio, when was the last proper night of rest you had?”, she worried over his condition. Rubbing his eyes free of sand, he remembered the last time having been at home. “I think 3 days ago…”, came a nearly soundless reply.

‘He has been restless for far too long…He needs sleep. Plenty.’.

“Just hold on a bit more.”, she smiled up at Crio. Somehow, he looked like a tired child the way he had to hold back his constant yawns, stubbornly trying to stay awake. “Once we are back, you can rest easy. I will keep watch at all times. I’ll make you some more apples and then-“.

But the moment she gazed at horizon, she gasped softly.

In a beautiful array of colors, the sun rose, driving the black cloak of darkness away.

“Helios rises…Did all that happen in the course of a single night?”. Atalanta couldn’t believe their first night with battles had nearly turned into a disaster.

Rubbing his temple, Crio cursed the next morning. ‘Great. I hoped it didn’t take that long.’.

Again, a night with no sleep at all.

Now was one of the rare opportunities he desperately needed a cigarette.

With a sigh, he looked at Atalanta with an apologetic smile on his lips. “I know you dislike it. But can I…”. Atalanta’s sensitive nose was a curse. The smoke was biting, even when he turned his head away.

But with a soft smile, she grasped into his jacket she was still wearing. For speaking so much about himself, about Iskandar, Gilgamesh, Arthur and Lancelot, unveiling so much of the previous war and enduring the horrible picture of torture that Gilles de Rais painted with his own hands, Atalanta wanted to reward her master somehow. “I will allow one. Is that acceptable, Crio?”, she answered him softly, giving him a cigarette out of his pack and immediately letting rest vanish inside the pocket again. “Just making sure you do not overdo it.”. Fighting a stubborn greek woman was a fruitless endeavor. If Crio didn’t know two at home, he would have been more shocked.

It didn’t help with Achilles’ constant jokes of Crio and Atalanta being a pair.

Atalanta enjoyed the sweet taste of victory as Crio sighed his agreement on the terms, gratefully taking it between his lips.

Careful not to get the smoke in her face, Crio watched as the sun rose on the horizon. It was strange. The taste of the tobacco neither satisfied the need for nourishment. Yet it soothed him whenever he was stressed.

It was something Atalanta could not understand. She only saw him poisoning himself as he told her the very first night.

One night over. One battle settled.

No losses on their side. But for strange reasons, the Saber of Black was gone.

It all gnawed on his thoughts as he stared into the glowing embers of his cigarette. Bright they shined. As bright as the life of the Saber of Black and the strikes he shared with their Rider. And now he was just gone for some inexplainable reason.

But in all of that, despite their argument before, he felt his connection to Atalanta having been fortified.

She was at his side, holding his arm and leading him home and away from the chaos.

With a smile on his lips, he thought of taking a detour. “Archer?”.

“Yes, Crio?”.

Fighting the sleep in his eyes, rubbing the sand out, he suggested to take the time as well. “We still need to set up a camp properly. If the sun is rising anyway, let us wait until the shops open to get a tent…and you some proper clothes.”.

Atalanta curiously blinked up at his smile directed towards her. “Your dress is beautiful. It really suits you. But when we walk outside, you should at least fit in. So, before we go back, let us get that done.”. A small smile spread on her lips at the compliment. But only because she knew he wasn’t flirting with her. “Fool. You can hardly walk straight ahead. Servants don’t need any sleep.”, she denied him. “Do you have accommodation? You desperately need a bed.”.

Slight drops of nervous sweat covered his forehead. Ever since Crio arrived, he did not have the time to search for a hotel or anything close.

Sighing once more, Atalanta couldn’t help giggling softly. “We’ll return to our spot. I’ll make you some roasted apples and then you rest for a few hours. I will be by your side the entire time.”.

Crio couldn’t express his gratitude at that moment. With a sleep deprived nod, he agreed.

And back at the camp with a full stomach, Crio immediately drifted to sleep on the soft green grass and his Archer’s protection. On the log and eating an apple, Atalanta silently stared at Crio’s sleeping face.

Completely relaxed without a single sign of a scowl he wore nearly the entire night.

Touching the grass over his head, a scowl slowly spread on her lips. ‘Unable to be seen, but there are small rocks here and there.’.

Making sure there were no prying eyes on them, Atalanta very carefully lifted his head. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Silently with careful movements she sat down beside him, laying his head on her lap. Quietly Atalanta watched him for any kind of movement and a slight blush. A small sigh escaped her lips…

…before he immediately turned to her belly.

Barely she could keep her startled squeal in check. But upon closer notice, she found him starting to relax more on the soft pillow that were her thighs. Absent minded, Atalanta’s fingers softly stroked between the pure white strands with awe and a soft smile. Wild and untamed, as if he ran against same wind she did all those years ago, yet soft and pure as snow.

And that small bliss turned her comforting smile into a frown. ‘What am I doing here?’.

Wondering about that warmth in her chest when she observed his relaxed expression, stroking one of the many scars on his body right on his left eyebrow, she stared up into the sky. Ever so faintly, ready to disappear together with the night and the rest of the stars, the moon smiled at her.

“Lady Artemis…is this okay what I am doing?”, she asked her goddess. “Is it bad for a man to be around me? Or…is he correct in his assumption that as long as my purity is kept, a respectful man like him I can allow at my side?”.

The goddess didn’t answer. For that, the wind danced around her, playing with long blonde strands.

Some of them fell on Crio, covering him like a golden blanket. It was like a gentle whisper into her ear, a gesture to do what she thought was right.

“Maybe…that is something you wish for me to decide on my own…”.

For now, she would protect him from harm, allowing her master some much needed rest.


	13. Start from Zero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exhausted from the many nights awake, Crio finally fell into a deep slumber with his watchful Archer, Atalanta, never letting him out of her sight, allowing him to rest on her lap.
> 
> Though while the great holy grail war was resting, somewhere in London, the young head of the Tohsaka family has been summoned to the clock tower. Accompanied by her loyal Archer, Shirou and Artoria, Rin pondered what exactly the reason could be for their summoning. Only time would tell...
> 
> ...as the former master of a powerful Rider would elaborate.

Barely out of the airplane, a young woman with beautiful black hair in pony tails relished the sun shining on her skin after a long flight from Japan all the way across the Atlantic. Rejuvenated, she skipped down the stairs with a half-asleep young man with hair of orange following her. Close behind them, a girl with blonde hair asked the man: “Shirou, might we get something to eat before we head to wherever you need to be?”. The large, tanned man behind her shook his head. First thing out and the girl was thinking about eating. “Really, Saber. We have barely arrived.”, he answered with a hint of amusement. “We first need to check in our hotel, then we can look for a place to dine. Though…”.

Having rarely been to London, the man gazed down at his master in the red dress waiting impatiently for them.

“It is an unusual timing that you have been called here, Rin. Have you gotten explanation why the sudden announcement?”. “I told you already, Archer. I have no idea what one of them, much less the Ell-Meloi family, wants with me.”, she muttered an answer. Prying ears should not hear too much about what had been going on in Fuyuki. “After the greater grail was dismantled, the war was supposed to be over for good. And now…they just call us all of a sudden.”.

It was a strange case.

One day, the young Tohsaka received a letter by the clock tower to attend an urgent meeting. The sender was the current head of the Ell-Meloi family. A long living family of mages with much influence inside the clock tower.

Frowning at the elusive peace, Archer couldn’t help but feel doubt that this was just a meeting to report what is happening in Fuyuki. The grail was gone, the greater grail dismantled. Kirei was dead and the only remnant of those two wars was Gilgamesh, who had disappeared from Fuyuki a few days after.

Only the original seven Servants remained.

Medea.

Medusa.

Heracles.

Kojiro.

Archer.

Cu.

Artoria.

And out of all, only the masters that were killed in the war, only Souichirou was revived. It was a theory that the lives of the masters were sucked up by the grail as well. Though why it was only Souichirou, remained a mystery to this day. One could think that, if Shinji had been the one to wear the seals of the Rider, he would have been revived as well.

Inside the airport to get their packages, Artoria noticed Archer’s unease. “Why are you so stiff, Archer?”. “I’d ask you why you are so relaxed, Saber? After all, this is your country. The place you died for.”, he returned as swift as he can shoot an arrow.

A faint smile on her lips, she grasped her bag. “Simple. It is not my country anymore.”.

Her answer was peaceful. Acceptance that her rule is over. “I have led this land long enough. My wish to undo what has thrived to this day was a foolish one. I let my despair cloud my judgement for so long.”, she whispered with a hand over her heart. A lecture she learned when she was at her lowest. That night in the fifth holy grail war, her wish threatened to tear her apart from the inside out. Her master was unable to understand why she wanted to rewrite the past.

But one man understood.

And the smile, slowly faded in worry.

“I hope he is okay, wherever he is.”.

“If he can take a hit from Berserker and still fight, then I think this greek monster is just fine.”, Rin laughed softly at the Saber’s worry. “But, Rin. Caster is incredibly worried. How can you be so at ease?”.

Shirou shook his head. Though he could understand Saber’s worry, he knew that the Caster could overreact at times. “Saber. I think we know Caster well enough by now that she just cares for him too much. I mean…”. He gazed at Rin for support. “Rider is not worried at all, right?”. A playful smile spread on her lips. “No, not at all. She said it was typical for him to just leave without any explanation. Worry looks different.”, Rin giggled, imagining the red face of the greek upon being teased by the gorgon. “I am sure he sees this as a holiday to get away from his a…aga…uhh…”. “It is pronounced ‘ _agapi mou’_ , Rin.”, Archer helps his stupefied master. “It is greek for ‘my love’ and she is just teasing him. These two are far from a pair.”.

The death glare Rin sent Archer made him feel as if an Assassin just tore his back open. “I am aware what exactly it means. I spoke to Rider often enough to ask what it means and why she says it.”, Rin bites back with venom, while Shirou nervously laughed. Her Servant having to rub his experience in again was pissing her off.

Though, Shirou was relieved that Saber seemed to be a lot more relaxed now. Because the meeting today would probably be a tough one.

Once the sun was about to set, the the gates to the tower welcomed its guests.

The halls of the school were empty, yet Artoria and Archer always felt watched. “Archer.”. “I know, Saber.”, Archer muttered and unsurprised answer. “Nothing new to mages. They must have expected our arrival already and are extra cautious.”.

“It is nothing to worry yourself about. Mages after all are normally a solitary and careful species.”.

Rin’s eyes narrowed.

“After all, who wouldn’t be wary of Servants. Legendary heroic spirits of the past, summoned to wage war for a mere glimpse at a wish?”.

Right on the crossway, bathed in the sunset, was a tall man with straight black hair that went down to his waist. A stern expression ironed from many lectures and eyes that spoke of experience. A sophisticated appearance, a black coat with a red scarf loosely hanging down. Your typical gentleman.

Watching the young head of the Tohsaka family close the distance to him, she offered her hand. Every movement was confident. Her expression unreadable. “It has been a while, Lord El-Melloi II.”, she greeted him, his own hand shaking hers in return. He nodded, unable to not let his interested gaze clash with the stern Archer’s glare. “It has, miss Tohsaka. I see you brought company this time.”, he noted. His interested switched from the red Archer to the short Saber.

Long and deep, his eyes feeling like knives, they seemed to burrow inside of her. The more she was under their assault, the more something inside her core stirred.

A soft gasp escaped her lips as a memory was reawakened. ‘Wait…those eyes of his…’.

They were the same ones she remembered of a young boy standing by the side of large man with a contagious grin that could win over loyalty without breaking a sweat. A man that once forced her to review her own life.

Swallowing her shock and freezing it solid, she met his cold look with her own. ‘That man…could he really be…’.

Shirou noticed the unease tension between the two, immediately shifting between them to break the eye contact. ‘What was that just now?’, he wondered. ‘That definitely looked like he knows Saber. And not the fond kind.’. His questioning gaze to Archer was met with a shrug of his shoulders. Whatever the relationship was between Artoria and Lord El-Melloi, he didn’t know.

Rin noticed the group’s unease, as did the head of El-Melloi’s, swiftly turning on his heel. “Follow me. We will talk in my study.”. In silence, they followed the man, though not without a hint of suspicion.

Behind locked doors, the group settled on the couch while he wandered to his desk. “Let me get straight to the point about one thing.”, he started, suspiciously gazing at the Archer. “You. You are a Servant as well, right?”. Beside him, Rin nodded up at her Servant, giving him freedom of speech. “That is right. I am Rin’s Archer Servant. Though, now you got me curious, Lord El-Melloi.”, Archer answered with a bite. “How did you realize I was a Servant?”.

Silently the lord of the El-Melloi family pulled out a cigar from his coat. One of the few things that helped him calm down under certain circumstances, though not always the best solution. “You blend in with today’s society perfectly.”, he commended them, though with a hint of amusement. “An amateur would not be able to differentiate you. But to the trained eye and a strong spirit, the pressure of a Servant’s mana can easily be felt.”. Alight and taking a deep draw of his cigar, Lord El-Melloi II gazed once more at Artoria, refusing to look away from him. The moment he looked at her, the moment he remembered every single detail. How it annoyed him to be in this position at such a crucial moment.

The smell of the Babylonian wine. The golden otherworldly glow of the polished cups as they exchanged their wishes.

And the chains that bound his dearest friend, before that horrible, black sword plunged through the king’s chest, the blood merging with the red glowing glyphs.

Even if not at fault, he remembered her face. None could forget her brilliance, as her golden sword cleaved the horrible monster at the lake in two. Once you are blessed with that sight, everything else seems almost boring. Jewels, flowers.

Nothing against that radiant light merged from the hopes the girl had carried.

“Do you still remember who I am, Saber?”.

The various looks she received, shock to mild curiosity, stabbed inside her from all sides. If she could forget that, she would. But in the end, his words, those of the king that night, never left her. They echoed as did his voice.

Words that someone else would take up upon. While the greek king’s voice boomed inside her head, that of her friend spoke the same, though with a tone soft as a feather and filled with sympathy.

Back to back, two greeks with the same goal to make her realize that she is destroying herself. Yet only one succeeded and pushed her into Shirou’s arms.

Nodding slightly, Artoria answered. “I had a hunch already. I could see it in your eyes.”. The more she gazed at the lord, the more he seemed to shrink.

Young, feeling obligated to have to prove himself to the world as fast as possible, and at his side, one of the strongest Servants she ever met.

“It is you, right? You are that boy from back then?”.

The man’s face was unchanging. But the adam apple in his throat moved as he swallowed bitter memories.

“You were Rider’s master…the master of Iskandar, the king of conquerors.”.

Taking a deep breath, the lord walked towards one of the many shelves, ignoring the shocked look from Archer, Rin and Shirou. “W-Wait a second!”, the young man stuttered. “Saber, you are telling me he was-“. “Yes. He was a master once too.”, Artoria confirmed, watching how his hands gently cradled a box. As if a heart was inside there, his very soul, he carefully put it on the table. The way he opened it with a careful touch, as if fearing to be drawn inside pandora’s box, he grabbed a red cloth that withstood the trials of time, showing it to all inside the room.

A strong scarlet color, filled with the passion of his expedition. All for the wish to gaze upon the sea.

Okeanos.

Artoria’s eyelids fell as the memories flooded back. “No doubt. I would remember that cloth no matter where I was faced with it.”, she whispered with a slight quake in her voice. “I remember the feeling of his presence vanishing back as the fourth holy grail war was nearing its end. I was faced with him in the end before I was forced to destroy the grail. So…that means…Archer…”. “Yes. Gilgamesh was too much for us to handle.”, the lord admitted, putting the remnant of the king back into his treasured box. “The master of Rider was a naïve fool. He thought by winning the war, he could prove himself to the world. He needed to, as soon as possible. But in the end, that fool only watched as his king rushed to his demise, only leaving behind was an immature brat that realized much too late what he lost.”. Though the tale squeezed his heart, the faintest smile graced his hardened features. The booming voice. The fire red mane. Even how the king nearly took up half of the room by himself with his size. “But I do not regret it. It was a promise I kept to him. I would survive no matter what. The only reason king Gilgamesh wouldn’t kill a master, despite the threat to make a pact with a new Servant, was respect. He was reminding me of my promise to him, before heading to the final battle.”.

With a scowl in his face and lips pursed, Archer turned his head away.

The fourth holy grail war was what spawned him. What drove him into the arms of a kind hearted killer that would raise him as his own. One whose wish destroyed him from the inside out and was passed down to him, after he sat at the porch all alone. Gazing over at the confused Shirou, he spoke up. “I do not know any details about that war. But if Saber, Iskandar and Gilgamesh were there, then I can guess that these battles must have been catastrophic.”. “Some of them where, Archer.”, Lord El-Melloi answered coldly at the memory of Gilles de Rais’ lunacy as he was returning to his seat behind the elegant wooden desk. “Though, I have not come here to reminisce on the past with Saber.”. Rin nodded, holding up the letter she received. “You invited us considering the dismantled greater grail in Fuyuki. Why though? You were with us when it was taken apart.”.

Finally, they would get into the heart of the matter.

Taking another draw on his cigar, the smoke seemed like a fog that threatened to consume them. “Miss Tohsaka…did any of you…notice something strange going on, the last few days?”, he asked, yet keeping the question open for anyone to answer, despite mentioning the head of the family. Her hands folded nervously.

The days after the war had been quiet. No new Servants seemed to have incarnated after the lesser grail was destroyed by Saber and Shirou. It was peaceful and the Servants showed no sign of disappearing or weakening.

But…

“I noticed something the last few days.”, Archer spoke up with a dark tone. “3 days ago, I felt faint traces of mana structures suddenly appearing out of nowhere. The problem was, I couldn’t pinpoint them to investigate, as they spawned across the ocean. But the feeling was unmistakable.”.

The temperature dropped with the next words coming from the bowman’s lips.

“I felt Servants appearing. Fifteen to be exact.”.

“Fifteen Servants? And you didn’t feel the need to inform us?”, Artoria reprimanded harshly, her voice as sharp as her sword. Yet Archer shrugged. “As much as I would have loved to, what would it have brought us aside from stirring up unnecessary worry? I couldn’t pinpoint the location after all. Until I could tell where they were, it would have stayed that way. I assume those fifteen are the reason you summoned us here, Lord El-Melloi?”.

Turning his back to them to open the window and let the smoke drift off, his lips pursed as he remembered the war.

“We…have recently located a second greater grail.”.

“What?!”, Rin’s voice echoed among the sharp gasps.

Another greater grail. Another way find the root of all magic and the very reason the holy grail war exists in the first place.

“Einzbern. Tohsaka. Matou. Three great mage families and the root of the holy grail war in Fuyuki. Essentially, we destroyed what they hoped would lead them to the root. And now…”, he explained, gazing deeply into Rin’s azure blue eyes, determined, focused. A picture-perfect mage on the outside, hiding the uneasy feeling in her chest. “And now only one of those three continues to exist. The Einzberns no longer have the drive to continue and the Matous’ magic circuits are dead, now with that vampire Zouken being gone. That man…was much to dangerous to be left alive.”.

Rin silently clenched her dress.

“That…unfortunately is only half true, Lord El-Melloi.”.

Nearly snapping the cigar, Lord El-Melloi II turned around with a look confusion.

Never would Rin forget the face of the man that tortured her sister so much. “While the only one left from the Einzberns is Illyasviel, a homunculus, Zouken Matou has disappeared without a trace after the fifth holy grail war was over.”.

Rin’s hands folded, her nails slowly dug into her skin. The frustration was immense. “The Matou’s magecraft is a horrible kind of torture that destroys both body and mind. My sister, the current head of the Matous, has unfortunately been victim to it. Officially, she is the only Matou left alive, though actually, she is a former Tohsaka.”. Though silently listening, Lord El-Melloi shot Rin a sympathetic look. She was struggling with learning what her sister has been through. Taking a deep breath, her voice regained strength and she finished steadfast. “While she is safe and sound today with her Rider protecting her, the old vampire vanished from the face of the earth.”. She gazed up at her Servant’s deep scowl. “Archer has been searching every spot in Fuyuki for a trace. But he is gone.”. The lord began to bite his lips. If anything, he remembered the details about one of the masters in the fourth holy grail war.

The master of the Berserker clad in black armor. A Servant so strong, that his master couldn’t survive fueling his rage and desire to fight. He knew of the cruelty of the Matou bloodline. Zouken was a mage in his truest form. Ruthless and ready to use every means possible to achieve his goal.

“That…might prove to be a problem someday.”, the lord muttered darkly. The scarlet sun didn’t help to burn that feeling of unease inside of his chest. “Zouken is unpredictable. He would use anything and anyone to achieve what he desires with a twisted sense of joy from seeing others suffer. I know. I heard what happened to the master of Berserker.”.

While Artoria shuddered at the memory of her friend, Shirou had begun to slowly piece it all together. The invitation. Facing Artoria with the past. Asking about the greater grail and any kind of weird things happening the last few days.

“Lord El-Melloi…”, he spoke up. Curiosity and fear were killing him inside. “There is another war already going on, right?”.

The slow nod had a heavy weight to it. It threatened to crush all five of them inside this very room.

Shirou’s face contorted in pain. Memories were tearing him apart from the inside out like blades piercing outwards.

The horrors him, Artoria, Rin and Archer faced together.

Having Heracles’ axe burrow into his side. That incredible pain paralyzing him as he faded.

Watching in horror as a man with white hair took a blow meant for him and Artoria. One that tore the man’s entire back open, yet he refused to fall, taking up fight against the Berserker with his own life’s essence gushing out of him.

Witnessing Medea ruthlessly being torn apart by Gilgamesh’s weapons. Forced to see her die in the arms of her lover.

And seeing the twisted desires that formed the man known as Kotomine Kirei. Drowning in his desire to see the world burn, he awaited Artoria and Shirou together with Gilgamesh.

“Fifteen…Servants…A holy grail war with fifteen Servants!”.

There was no excitement inside the youth’s voice, trembling with what was pure terror. “If the fifth and fourth war already showed what such a battle can do, then this is going to be out of control once it reaches its peak! “It has already begun, boy.”, the lord cut him off, only making that fear sink even deeper into his body. “The first encounters have already taken place.”.

The moment the red of the sunset reminded Shirou of the flames that consumed all those lives around him as he tried to find an exit with his small body aching and burning, Artoria silently supported her master. Archer sighed how that experience still chained him. Though he himself fought with the ugly image that painted in his mind. “Where is that war being held?”, Archer immediately jumped in. The lord had already expected the Archer to press for the location, or pretty much any of them. Once having seen the pile of bodies of the casualties involved, none would want this to repeat.

However, the war he was about to explain was a delicate subject.

“I must ask of all of you to not interfere as of this moment.”, Lord El-Melloi demanded before being willing to speak. The sight of Archer’s frustration becoming more apparent didn’t amuse him. But the battle was big enough already. “If there are more Servants than just you two that survived the fifth war, then this could turn the war into something that might destroy entire towns if not kept in check. We have masters down there we carefully handpicked on our own.”.

“Then why do I sense doubt in your words, oh Lord?”.

Sharp as ever, Archer easily saw through the cool façade of the teacher. “If you had any confidence in these fools, why call the four of us here? You have brought us together for a reason.”. And with a sigh, he relented against the bowman. A part of him was amused at the feeling of metaphorical arrows digging inside of his body. “The war is being held in Romania. There we-“.

Sharp as her sword, the Saber’s gasp cut into the lord’s words.

Artoria’s horror struck every single person deeply into their marrow. “No. That cannot be a coincidence…”, she whispered, clenching her teeth. It was all fitting together perfectly. So much, it snapped Shirou out of his horrible daydream. “Saber?”. Taking a deep, struggled breath, Artoria forced herself to speak up. “Listen…under no circumstances must Caster and Rider know about this war.”, she asked them all earning slow nods.

It was all way too perfectly timed.

“Crio has left for Romania nearly three days ago.”.

Just this morning they joked about him just leaving out of nowhere. About Medea worrying too much and Medusa seeing it as him taking some time off. Like a wind racing over the greek ocean, he disappeared.

And now they learned that where he was, a war was being held.

Lord El-Melloi’s eyebrow slowly raised. “Crio? An acquaintance of yours?”. Rin quickly took over as Artoria clenched her teeth in frustration. “Yes. Crio is a greek man we met in the fifth holy grail war. Shoulder length white hair held open and blue eyes. He is easily identified by many scars running all over his body. And on top of that, someone who can fight on par with Servants.”. Rin watched how her words slowly sunk into the teacher. His hand was shaking as did his voice. “A…Servant?”. Recomposing himself and clearing his throat, he waved at her to continue, earning a slow nod. “He is strong enough to thwart of a Berserker with cunning and took a blow from the fifth war’s that would have torn a normal person to pieces, though not without severe consequences. It resulted in a massive wound on his back that has somewhat become his Achilles’ tendon.”.

“And he left for Romania three days ago?”.

She nodded. Lord El-Melloi seemed to become more unease, drumming on the desk. ‘Could this truly be just a coincidence?’, he wondered to himself. ‘Three days…That would fit with perfectly…’.

“He might be a part of the red faction.”.

Straightening his collar reflexively under the pressure from various glares, he explained what was going on. “Fourteen Servants. Two factions. This is the great holy grail war that is going on right now.”, he began, observing many eyebrows rising. “There are two Servants of each class. Saber, Archer, Lancer, Rider, Caster, Assassin, Berserker. And each faction has one of them. Together with them, there is also a fifteenth Servant as there is no supervisor. A Servant of the rare Ruler class.”.

Rin couldn’t believe what she just heard. “W-Wait a second! Ruler?! There is an eight class.”. “There is a lot you still do not know, miss Tohsaka. We are fools to believe that the bit of knowledge we have of Servants is enough to call us experts. There are more classes than we’d like to believe.”, he reprimanded her, though with understanding that she was still young before returning on topic. “Rulers are people that have been recorded as saints. People who have never took sides. For example, Charlemagne, in his latter life. Though powerful, these Servants stay impartial. But that is not a problem. However, what is, is one of our masters, the one who held the catalyst of the Archer of Red, suddenly perished before he made it to Romania. Together with him, his catalyst disappeared as well. We can suspect it was the enemy faction, and therefore tried to search for a replacement. Though out of nowhere, they seemed to have found someone.”.

Rin’s throat began to dry. Immediately she stared at the Saber. “Wait a second. You do not think that…he…”. “It could very well be possible, Rin.”, Shirou interrupted her stutter, leaning his chin on folded hands. “Thinking about it, he is ridiculously strong already and his magic is nothing normal. You said it yourself and Caster confirmed it. Him becoming a master wouldn’t be out of place. But out of his own free will?”. “That is what worries me as well, Emiya Shirou.”, Archer agreed for once with the young man. “He is stubborn and a realist. Trying to wrap him into a holy grail war with the illusion of a wish being granted is a fruitless effort. If you even mention a magical wish granting device, he might rip your head off. Though…him and an Archer…”.

Lord El-Melloi watched quietly, yet his ears were processing every bit of information as he memorized the man’s details.

Rin’s eye widened slowly. “Wait a second. By himself he wouldn’t join a war…”, she muttered, a finger on her cheek. “But…what if the Servant was actually able to convince him?”. “That is practically impossible, Rin.”, Archer laughed softly. The very thought of a Servant being able to persuade the greek seemed like a bad joke. “Think about it. Nearly every Servant in wars have been striving for a good fight and die like a hero. Lancer. Berserker. Assassin. I am sure Saber has met a few Servants herself who were like this.”. The blonde slowly nodded, her heart heavy with regret.

No matter how thankful she was for Kiritsugu saving Shirou’s life, she never forgave the duel he tarnished with the Lancer, Diarmuid. That horrible wail of his as he cursed them and the grail ultimately bore fruit.

“Even if I had been his Servant…”, Artoria whispered, putting her hand over her chest.

“Even with the deep connection me and him share, that bond of family…he would not have supported me with my desire to undo the past. As considerate as he is, he also firmly stands on the ground I wished to erase if it saved my country.”.

Her deepest desire that forced her hand to be glued to the handle of her sword was the salvation of her country. However, the haunting memories of Iskandar’s chastising specter and Lancelot’s engulfing shadow deformed it. What was once a wish to save her people, had turned into a twisted desire to leave Caliburn in the stone for another to draw.

“He told me one night that he understood my desire. But he also admitted that this wish could come with heavy consequences. Nothing I could have done would have gotten him to join my side, and warriors searching for battles are the kind he despises the most next to tyrants. Crio is a man that lives by the code of the strong devour the weak. In battles, there is no honor to be experienced and glory was but a treacherous wine warriors bath in. And if those that are deemed weak turn out to be children you were hunting, this greek lion is going to hunt you down to the ends of time, until his fangs tear out your throat and the cubs are safe.”.

Out of them all, Artoria currently had the best understanding of him. It was no shock. After all, they would spend time together when Shirou was at school and Crio not living under Medea’s roof. 

Sternly gazing into Lord El-Melloi’s eyes, the Saber plunged her words into him. “If anything, that Servant would be required to have a compatibility with him that none of us could understand. A wish he could understand and support. Even the slightest difference could cause a friction. If the Servant turned out to be the complete opposite of him, he would consider disposing of them without a second thought.”. “I see. Is that man a team player?”, Lord El-Melloi asked, receiving a shake of Saber’s head. “No. Crio is a loner. He fights to save and kills to protect. But all of that, he always does alone with an unreadable expression.”. Her delicate hands clenched the other as a memory returned.

“One day…I met Rider as she was searching for new books. I thought she was searching for a new tale to read. But instead, she was searching for books to study psychology. Night upon night Crio would just vanish and return with new wounds on his body. Caster was up all-night pulling bullets out of his body because he shielded someone. The victim was safe, but the attacker’s corpse was nowhere to be found.”. “Do you suggest this Crio can even work with a Servant?”, came the question of the lord. Artoria’s wished to tell something else. But her experience told something different. Archer smiled knowingly at the short Saber growing nervous in her belief. “He can, if the Servant and him are compatible. I watched him fight side by side with our Rider once. Though, I cannot see him working well with an Archer-AGH!”.

One moment he wasn’t cautious, Rin jabbed her fingers into the Archer’s ribs. Sighing softly at her Servant’s bared teeth, she reprimanded sharply. “You should not take your own difficulties conversing with him and generalize it, Archer.”. Rin’s words didn’t really even his thoughts. It was nothing new that the cynical and teasing Archer didn’t get along with the normally quiet greek.

“Then why are Caster and Rider the only ones talking to him?”.

“He doesn’t converse with Rider and Caster solely because they are greek women. Lancer is talking to him often. Saber just told enough about him to show that they are close friends. That is your problem.”, Rin scolded him, threatening him with a polished nail. “Though, he is a bit more at ease around greek Servants, right, Saber?”. “That he is.”, Saber noted with a nervous smile with Shirou at her side chuckling.

How the tension faded didn’t amuse the Lord even one bit. Though...

…seeing Rin’s face light up with an idea was a sight to behold.

“Wait a second…what if the Archer was greek?”, she wondered, gazing at the group. Archer sighed with a shake of his head. “And what kind of Archer should that be? Greeks had many famous Archers and the Athenians were known to have been experts on it. Odysseus, Heracles, Chiron-“.

“…Atalanta…”.

All of a sudden, a soft smile spread on Artoria’s lips. Every time she smiled like that, Shirou couldn’t help his chest getting warm. It was a sight to see the king open up like that. “Right…I remember…”, he whispered. “I met Caster when she was looking for a wedding dress…”.

_“Say, boy…is Crio married?”._

_“Huh? Where did that come from all of a sudden?”._

_“I just wondered, boy. Has he ever had a woman in his life?”._

_“I don’t know. He…probably had? Doesn’t seem like he is married though.”._

_“You are a boy. You never spoke with him about girls or women? That is odd considering your age. I would have expected you to ask him for advice with Saber. Or maybe Archer’s girl is more your type? Though, Rider’s girl is lovely young lady.”._

_“Can we please not talk about that? Thank you. The only thing odd here is a woman about to be married asking me if her best friend ever had a relationship.”._

_“It is precisely because I am getting married that I worry about my friend.”._

_“Hm…Considering his reaction around Rider calling him that word the entire time…”._

_“You mean ‘agapi mou’?”._

_“It means something like darling, right? It sounds weird when I try to speak a different language, yours especially.”._

_“Our native tongue is a bit special, yes.”._

_“Well, I don’t think he did. But I think he would be tough to handle. I don’t think you could just take your average every day woman and hope that this relationship held up for long. He has…problems he doesn’t want to speak about. Especially with him disappearing every now and then. But why?”._

_“I think…I have someone for him.”._

_“…Wait…Are you trying to hook him up with someone? I didn’t even know somebody like that exists…”._

_“Existed, boy.”._

_“Oh…So it is a friend from your former life. Who is she?”._

Shirou’s lips curled up at the memory of the sunny day with Medea. “That smile that spread on her lips that day seemed like she found the holy grail. Though not for herself, but for someone else.”, Shirou remembered how she began to fawn about her friend. “That woman was said to have a heart solely beating for the happiness of children. She wished to create a world where children were loved by their parents and none would have to suffer the heartbreak she did in her entire life, being abandoned…and unloved.”. “Abandoned?”, Rin muttered. Her eyebrows dropped as Archer began to ponder. “It was the typical problem of a king desiring an heir. Her father had no patience and abandoned her into a forest. Maybe a woman like that can get him to fight. Crio has the same tendency to recklessly protect a child.”.

Shirou nodded across from her with a sour look. “There was one incident once. We were walking outside and saw a guy pestering a woman who was walking around with her baby. That jerk was forcing himself on her, ignoring the infant. The traffic lights were red and…”.

The screeching sound still echoed in his ears as the vehicle crashed into a body, flinging it up into the air.

In motionless silence, Crio’s back smashed into the ground…

…safely cradling the crying, terrified infant in his arms.

“The asshole tore her hands of the buggy and uncontrolled it rolled over the street. A sportscar was approaching, unable to stop in time.”, Shirou remembered his heart stopping. “Crio was unbelievably fast. Barely seconds passed and he had pulled the baby out of the buggy, before the car smashed into his body and sent him flying, making him crash down on his back. His shirt was drenched red. Berserker’s wound had been torn open from the impact. He could barely make out my face and the one of the crying mother at my side. He couldn’t even hear the baby screaming in his arms. But he only asked one question, barely registering us.”.

Saber and Rin smiled softly, not expecting anything less, with Archer chuckling in amusement.

“Is the baby okay?”.

Crossing his arms, Archer gave up. “Right. If there is anything, he’d willingly fight for with every inch of his life is to see a child staying safe and alive. If that huntress really possesses that kind of desire…maybe your hunch is not all that wrong.”, he admitted.

‘I see…’, Lord El-Meloi chuckled silently. ‘A greek to soften a greek, huh?’. Fondly he gazed at the box holding Iskandar’s relic. How he missed his dear friend.

Sometimes he would still dream of their adventure. Of reaching out to the sky on Iskandar’s chariot. How terrified he was when he crash-landed and interrupted the fight between Artoria and Diarmuid.

Sometimes he wished he still could chase the stars with his Rider.

But in that friendly banter, laid most valuable information that could make or break the war. “Considering that this friend of yours truly has entered the war and summoned the Archer of Red, if it is the chaste huntress of greek legends…”, he stirred focus back to the topic at hand. Just the sound of his voice alone was enough to gather all of their attention. “…then I should get in contact with my associate as soon as possible. Miss Tohsaka. Mister Emiya. Saber. Archer. Your assistance was most valuable.”. “You have someone in contact down there?”, Archer muttered, receiving a nod. “Yes. Our strongest master has a Saber at hand. And not just any Saber.”.

With a look of pity to the king, he received a tilt of her head.

His lips moved…

…and in that small motion, she read a name as clear as it was on paper.

A name that meant tragedy for her kingdom. A name that made her stomach twist, her throat dry as her heart seemed to shatter.

Her biggest regret and greatest worry.

“I can’t believe we are not supposed to go down and help.”, Shirou muttered disappointed as they rested his hotel room with Saber. However, while he ranted and worried, Saber had been quietly laying in her bed. A searching gaze was fully fixated on the ceiling.

“I mean seriously. People could die. If one of them has a noble phantasm like yours, then…”.

Noticing how quiet she was, Shirou sat up from his bed. “Saber? What is wrong?”. Turning on her side, she showed her back to him. “Nothing, Shirou.”, she lied through her teeth.

The name did not leave her mind. She was fighting every urge inside of her to take Shirou and go down. ‘If that Saber really is her…’, she worried in the warmth of the blanket. ‘…then not only that priest is going to be a danger.’.

Artoria desired to help her friend. But knows all too well what it meant to interrupt a fight she wasn’t supposed to be in. She saw first-hand the despair it can cause. This was not her battle.

“You are worried about Saber, right?”.

Sighing a bit, she sat up, lured by his sympathetic smile turning serious. “It is not only about the innocents down there. But Crio showed me a few things about you that I had trouble understanding myself. I am grateful for that. And his scar I see as a contract.”, Shirou took away her worry with warm compassion. “If you worry that much about Saber, if that really is ‘him’, then we will go down there. But for now…”.

Smiling brightly, Shirou laid back down, staring up into the ceiling. “How about we let him enjoy his journey with Atalanta? At least, if it is really her?”. Brightly giggling, Artoria laid back down. “Right. He should enjoy the journey for what it is worth. Experiencing new things with the huntress of Arcadia doesn’t happen every day.”.

Still inside the lord’s study, Lord El-Melloi II, Rin and Archer sat together as a girl in a hood served tea. “Thank you, Grey.”, the lord spoke up. Accepting the gratitude quietly, the girl quickly walked out, feeling unnerved by the Archer’s dark glare. “Don’t mind me asking, but what is she? Her face…”. That girl was completely identical to Artoria, save for the silver hair replacing the perfect gold of the blonde.

“An experiment. But I will not go into her any further, for her sake.”.

But while Archer didn’t feel at ease with the lack of an answer, Rin gazed at the box in front of her. “Iskandar…the king of conquerors.”, she whispered, stroking the material in her hand. Despite the times having been harsh on it, it still felt soft. “If you have such a powerful Servant to be summoned, why didn’t you participate in the great holy grail war? Even the fifth? Iskandar’s legend is known all over the world. As a Servant, he must be extremely powerful.”. “He is. Iskandar is one of the strongest people I ever met. But I have seen enough for a lifetime, miss Tohsaka.”, a crude answer followed the lighting of another cigar.

The answer came with the memories of the Gilles’ lair, the mountain of corpses he had gathered. Children tortured in a manner too incomprehensible to be put into words. The sound of the flies, the smell of the rotting flesh that made his stomach twist. Even though Iskandar warned him of it, the lord didn’t back down and that image would stay with him even in the afterlife. He paid for it by violently emptying his stomach.

Rin’s lips pursed. As much as she wanted to deny, he was right. After all, she witnessed herself how cruel these battles could become. Yet she couldn’t understand that accepting smile on his face. He looked completely at peace. “If I had summoned him, I think this entire war would have turned into a mess. That is how it is with this guy. I am thankful that he saw me as his friend at the end of the line and I am his loyal follower. Another war would do me no good.”. “If you say so. Then another question. If an executor is in the red faction as well, why don’t you want us to assist our friend or at least keep an eye out?”, she doubted his orders. Archer swiftly agreed. “Executors and mages never got along to begin with. I fail to understand what made any of this seem as a good idea. Anyone with the name Kotomine cannot be up to any good. We witnessed firsthand how one of them tried to condemn this entire world simply because he was delighted at people’s misery. We could at least act as a third faction in the shadows.”.

“And that is not possible.”.

Tapping his cigar to get rid of the ash, the lord met them with sympathy. “We are aware of Kirei Kotomine’s insanity and we keep an eye out on Shirou Kotomine. Your worry is fully understandable, be it for the civilians or that friend of yours. I saw what certain masters were capable of to reach their goals. Zouken being the best example. But worry also clouds your judgement.”, he explained with the clear memory of Artoria warning them to not speak of it.

“Your Caster and Rider, that your Saber mentioned, should not be instructed about his whereabouts. I guess that it is out of the fear that these two might join the war without a second thought to help him. Am I right?”. 

He put out his cigar, watching Rin’s scowl ruin her pretty face, realizing that what he said was true.

“That alone could make the war more dangerous than it already is and put him into a dangerous spot with more than one Servant at his side. If that man is as you described him, he can take out the red faction from the inside out if things seems to go out of control. After all, I expect that priest to try something.”.

Archer huffed annoyed. ‘Then I truly hope Medusa never finds out. She has followed him around every night after some time passed.’, he begged to any deity to help him. Though at the same time, he wondered what prompted Crio to travel down.

“Your friend. Greek. White hair and blue eyes. Physically further identifiable by scars on his body. His name was Crio, right?”, Lord El-Melloi recited every detail. His mind was sharp and his next steps clear as he grabbed the phone. Rin nodded silently. “Good. I will contact him then to keep an eye out for that friend of yours.”.

Archer and Rin gazed at another. “Whom?”, she asked.

As the cold winds of Romania travelled through the alleyways of Trifas, a man gazed at his phone. Curiously picking up, his gruff but friendly voice answered. “Lord El-Melloi? That is a rather unusual time to call.”. His gaze wandered to the knight at his side, leaning a broad sword on his shoulder.

Armor in silver with tints as red as blood. The face couldn’t be seen, obscured by a helmet that resembled a demon.

Rummaging through his biker jacket that had definitely seen better days, he tried to find his cigarettes. “We had a small encounter with Ygdmillenia forces. Other than that, nothing. Hm? Another master?”.

With a small scowl, he remembered the meeting with the priest. “I met the priest only. And I can safely say that I do not trust him. Anyone with two good eyes would know better than to stay close to him. I don’t know about any other masters or Servants.”.

Silently he listened to the info.

“Uhu. I see. White hair. Blue eyes. Greek and many scars. Shouldn’t be too hard to find. And he is Archer’s master? Only an assumption, huh? Honestly, the sound of a human taking on a Servants sounds utterly insane. But we live in a strange world. Alright. We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”.

The moment the phone was away, the knight spoke up in a youthful, yet aggressive tone. “Another one who doesn’t give a rat’s ass about the priest?”. “Allegedly.”, he answered, ruffling his brown hair. “The original master of Archer died and with him, the relic. That means, that we do not only have a completely new Servant at hand, but also someone who doesn’t work well in a team. It would be a bad joke if a guy like that actually trusted the priest.”. Hearing his Saber mumble something inaudible, he chuckled a bit. “Are you worried about him or his Archer, Saber?”.

“Are you kidding me? Why should I be worried about a measly Archer?”.

“Heh. Confident as ever. Though I wouldn’t underestimate two greeks. If what he said proves to be true, then that is a pair of lions we are dealing with.”.

That he said while they left behind crumbled rocks of golems and corpses of Ygdmillenia soldiers.

Who was that pair tasked to find Crio and Atalanta?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have notably slowed over here. With Covid having gotten control and me still searching for a job, there are currently a few other things I need to prioritize. Though, at least I could push this one out. 
> 
> I will probably have another chapter out by the end of the year. Though the next things I'll upload will be a few one-shots I had in mind for a while. I recently found out that you could put pictures to the stories. Though, I cannot draw for the life of me.
> 
> Stay safe, you all. And thank you for sticking with me through this story. I hope you are enjoying the ride.


	14. Cries of the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Returned to the place of her summon, Atalanta watched her master sleep of the exhaustion of the nights before, oblivious to what transpired in London. Adoringly she watched how he nuzzled against her, enjoying the lap pillow.
> 
> Swift as the wind brushing by her, a chill went down her spine.
> 
> Crio's peaceful expression turned into one of pain, as nightmares cried inside his dream.

## Cries from the past

Cold.

The freezing rain prattled down on her skin as she ran through the woods. Once beautiful white robes, torn and dirty, clinging to her slender frame. Her long golden mane had revealed itself in all its glory as she fled, fighting her body’s desire to rest. With every hectic, ragged breath escaping her dry lungs, she ran from her fate.

Footsteps.

Hundreds of them, all chasing after the desperate woman.

Kingslayer.

Murderer.

So many names she was called by the trees, the pursuers motivated to snuff out her life.

With tears in her eyes, she fought the urge to cry, using this very frustration to fuel her aching body to run. Anything to get away from this hell that her own life and the sin they thought she committed.

“It was his fault…”, came out of her hoarse throat. “It was his fault! IT WAS HIS FAULT!”.

None would listen to the truth coming from her lips.

The moment the king soundlessly fell of the balcony, the snap of his neck was the sound of her own life breaking in two. Her eyes wide in horror, as the man that had violated her life met his end, descending to the realm of Hades.

It was no hero’s death. Not even a graceful one. Shame deserving of what once was a cruel father.

Rage blinding him, he attempted to strangle her frail neck. Make her obedient to his will to marry a man and bear an heir to his throne. She herself was born no male. So, it was her obligation to find a suitable mate and bear a child, as it was custom in ancient Greece.

Ridiculous.

As the swift huntress evaded with ease, his own lack of control ended his reign as he fell over the railing of the balcony, struggling helplessly in the air and broke his neck upon impact on the lush green grass.

It happened so fast. There was not even enough to scream.

She hated him. Everything inside of her loathed what this man did to her. Yet despite the intense hatred she felt moments ago, once she stared down at the ground, her blood running cold…

…only loss remained after she realized that her life was crumbling beneath her feet.

All of a sudden, the scream of a baby disturbed the solace of the night.

Barely a few hours old, she was crying, hungry for love and affection while laying alone in her basket. She was so small. If you held her in your arms, when green eyes would open and gawk at you, asking who you were, what would you do?

Would you scowl that she was a girl?

Would you be put her back in the basket and leave her to her fate?

Or…

…would you feel joy when that baby smiled up at you, thanking you for your love and care? When these little fingers of hers reached for your own, holding it as tightly as they could, to thank you for being there for her.

Love.

Unconditional, true and pure. A father lifting his child to the sky. A mother smothering her with kisses on her cheek.

It was all this she desired. Yet, this baby had none of that.

There was no family.

With the mother dead, taken at the moment of the baby’s birth by Thanatos waiting until the girl was no longer inside the womb, the father was allowed to do as he pleased as the god of the dead would leave with the soul of a despairing mother, watching helplessly how he walked away.

No desire for a girl, the father left his own flesh and blood to rot in the woods. He would have killed her himself, had he not feared Hades’ cruel judgement. A blood debt towards the god of the underworld he would not risk. Mortals feared the unknown realm of the gods and more so, their whims and punishment. Especially those of the three brothers.

Instead, he’d let nature take its course. The strong prey upon the weak.

Defenseless, the baby would cry before being torn apart by the wolves that inhabited the territory. With that thought, the father left, deaf to the cries, thinking about another way to receive an heir.

But that didn’t happen.

Descending from the moon itself, a kindhearted goddess picked up the girl in her arms, protecting it from the wolves’ hungry gazes sparkling from the shadows. The moment her azure blue eyes glared at the beasts, they fled with tails between their legs, vanquishing any danger towards what she regarded as her baby.

She was terrifying. Nothing in this world could compare to the goddess once her anger was lit. A glare, sharp as the tip of arrows.

Startled, the baby opened brilliant emerald eyes towards the woman. A soft smile on her lips, a tender stroke on the chubby cheeks. Nothing more was needed. Not even words.

The baby smiled and laughed. She was finally loved. Out there in the dreadful darkness, the moon itself protected her from harm, whispering softly to the child that she was safe. A deity felt moved to tears, falling towards ground unbecoming to her when she was supposed to sit among the stars. But that time would be short lived.

A beautiful scene, smashed by crashing waves.

Years passed in a flash and the baby turned into a woman. By today’s standards, she might not be everyone’s taste. Her face was beautiful and her body delicate and graceful. But her expression was frozen into a deep frown she’d be known by for the rest of her time. Long blonde strands were unkempt, rough and tangled, reminiscent of a lion’s mane. The only thing reminding her of her birth mother were the green bangs framing her beautiful stoic expression, paired with the color of her eyes. These once joyful emeralds that gazed at the goddess, once so shining so radiantly, felt cold. Not a spark of the innocent joy of the baby remained.

Like a wall, none she would allow close to her.

She had become a queen of beasts. A purebred huntress, whose arrows would fly throughout history. A symbol of hope for children. Inspiration to all woman in Greece and even world across.

Standing on charred ground, wiping away the blood from a cut on her left cheek, she was surrounded by a magnificent group. Greek heroes of all sizes and shapes, with tales that would travel the ocean forever.

A giant with dark skin, calm and collected. A true hero with a strong sense of justice and a half-son of the king of the gods. One who’d later become a symbol of strength persisting to the ends of time.

A woman of incredible beauty wielding a brilliant spear with ease with the look of a starving animal, ready to drench the battlefield in fresh blood. Loved by the sea she loathed so much, only the life of a male warrior gave her solace.

Twins with golden hair, seemingly unable to be unapproached. A handsome man and a beautiful girl. An otherworldly aura surrounded them, a bond that none could sever, even in death, as they rushed into battle side by side.

A man hiding beneath black robes. Eyes though expressionless, were sharp, able to perceive the grievousness of an injury in mere seconds. There was nothing he couldn’t heal.

A young woman with long violet hair, wielding a staff. A sweet girl, cursed by the goddess of love, and later being feared the moment her name would fall. A woman, that this huntress adored with all her heart.

And the leader of the Argonauts. A disciple of the great centaur sage Chiron. While delicate in stature, his charisma was able to win the hearts of some of Greece’s greatest legends.

A sight to behold when the group raised their weapons. When the man roared for his comrades to attack that green wearing Archer fearlessly jumped in with the spear wielder. Countless arrows dug into the heads of their enemies, as her partner could rampage as freely as she wanted, digging the cold tip into the bodies of those unfortunate to try.

A terrifying duet, soon ended by crashing waves once more.

On a ship, the huntress, gazed at the ocean, joined by a man with wavy violet hair and stubbles decorating a gentle expression. It was nearly unbelievable he was a king, lacking cruelty the huntress knew from most of his rank. Silently he leaned against the railing, just wishing to keep her company.

She was exhausted.

Tired of many things that followed her ever since she reached adulthood. Even now with the sight of the ocean in front that feeling didn’t settle down. Even with her distant nature to males being known far and wide, some persisted ask for her hand when she grew up to be beautiful. It only grew worse, despite many broken arms and shattered ribs.

“Peleus?”.

“Yes, Atalanta?”.

Glaring at out into the ocean, she shook her head with a sigh. “Are all men such fools?”. Peleus knew what she meant. A sad smile spread on his lips, only souring the answer more. “Some of them are. Even knowing their love is not returned, they stubbornly cling to them. Even if the woman hates them, they are happy.”.

“I see…”, she accepted the message and the received confusion even more. Men were an enigma. Fools wearing spears, swords and shields to fight. Yet none fought for a just cause like her. “Do you think Meleager is happy to have died knowing that he gifted this thing to a woman that cannot feel love?”.

“…What makes you think that you cannot?”.

A hand folded over her slim chest, to feel if it was still beating, or it was truly dead. When Meleager offered Atalanta the pelt, her heart wasn’t beating with joy. She wasn’t flattered. If anything, confusion and annoyance pathed the way when she reached out towards the pelt.

She was sure her heart was dead. The only solace that woman ever had were with two of the Argonauts, one being the man watching the ocean with her.

Her longing gaze raced over the ocean, searching for her hope. No matter if the woman’s journey would take her to the end of the world, those slender legs would endure, fueled by that one desire.

Only the cool breeze of Poseidon’s realm was able to soothe her confusion ever so slightly.

“Tell me of a man that would support me of my wish with every bit of his heart. As long as a man like that doesn’t exist, I will save children by myself for eternity.”, she brushed his attempt to lighten her mood with a shake of her head. Her folded hands clenched hard and nails slowly dug into her skin. “Meleager thought he could win my hand by presenting me the pelt of the boar. But in the end, that is what killed him. It was a death without reason. He didn’t achieve anything by it. Typical. Warriors searching for glory, fighting for honor, are nothing but fools. They can all go out into the battlefield and die like insects and I wouldn’t bat an eye when I shoot an arrow between their eyes.”.

The man smiles a bit. Though it seems more worried than amused at the huntress’ visible frustration. “Few men were able talk with you normally. You see your chest as hollow, but I doubt that. Atalanta…Why else would you harbor such a beautiful wish?”, he asked, earning a mere scoff. That didn’t stop him from moving on. “I think somewhere out there exists someone that is perfect for you. I am sure of it, that Greece has a man for you. I cannot think of a woman as radiant as you not being allowed to find love.”. Even against her amusement, he didn’t falter.

“You know how I think about someone making advances on me.”.

“Hahaha! Apologies, my friend, if I sounded like that.”.

“Ha. It is fine. Though you should think more wisely about your words with lady Thetis as your wife.”.

She was one of his dearest friends, a person he wished to protect. “He is waiting, somewhere. And I am certain of it, that once your eyes meet, your desire to protect children will win his heart for you.”, he whispered, only sharing his believes with the solemn looking Archer. “Not your beauty, not your archery will win him. But that wish that you give your life for.”. “Ah, Peleus. As much as I’d like to believe that, it is nothing but a phantasm.”, she scoffed. Her hands clenched tightly, her eyes searched for that glimmer, only facing her own scowl taunting her.

“There will never be anyone. It will only be myself.”.

That the man couldn’t believe. He never would.

Her answer was followed by a smile of her own. She leaned her back against the railing, gazing at her friend. “Aside from that, you should worry about yourself, my friend. After all, once you return, you will be a father.”. A startled yelp of Peleus followed a hearty laugh. “Hahaha! I hope. Her belly was growing already when I left. I think it will be more than just one!”.

Excitement spread in the form of a bright smile tugging on her lips. “That sounds wonderful, Peleus! I hope you are blessed with healthy children to love.”.

“I will love every single one of them. And by the time we meet again, I hope you are ready to have a few rascals dancing around you! Because I will tell them all that you achieved!”.

“Haha! You want to make me their older sister, Peleus? Or are you trying to make me their godmother?”.

“Who knows? Wouldn’t you like that?”.

“Of course! I’d love to meet those wonderful children of yours! I am sure, with a father like you, they will grow up to be fine men.”.

“Oh…I don’t really wish for sons or daughters. I just want my children to be safe and healthy. Even if I am a king, I would love them all equally. And I can imagine you’d love them like they were your own.”.

A wide smile spread on her lips. It was the sound of a father excited to hold his babies in his arms that made her heart jump inside her chest. The very thought of her living a calmer life, visiting the king’s palace in robes and meeting his children felt like a distant dream. Smiling at his friend, he let his heart speak. “Atalanta, my dear friend, you are already family to me. And I’d wish for nothing more but to see mine and Thetis children celebrate your visit.”.

Girls and boys, running towards her and greeting their idol. Maybe a some of the boys would have a small crush on her, presenting her flowers. The huntress pictured a sight that brought a small tear to her eye.

“Then…I will gladly accept that. If you wish for me to be their godmother, I will be so!”.

Her joy didn’t last for long.

The serenity between the two Argonauts, joyful laughter and smiles, were torn to pieces with the sickening tear of skin and multiple horrified gasps raining down.

That very same woman who was joking with that man, had just ripped the head of a competitor off by her own, fair hands. Holding the head sky high, eyes rolled into the back of the head, the decapitated body bled out, tarnishing her sacred race track.

And with a terrifying grimace and splashes of his blood gracing her cheek, a sight that even Greece’s most horrible beasts would shudder from, her monstrous gaze took in every single fearful gaze.

“Witness! Every single one of you!”.

Her voice, tearing open the sky and shattering the earth beneath her feet, trembled with rage. Higher and higher, the woman with a mane as wild as a lion’s raised the decapitated head.

Despite her beauty, her widened emerald eyes terrified the masses, contorting her natural beauty.

“That _bastarde_ Hippomenes tried to win with trickery! Those apples are a curse to mortals, and he tried to win my hand with them. Look at them and tell me: Do you feel no desire to pick them up?!”.

Silently the masses gazed at two apples that still laid on the starting line. She was right though. The sheen a brilliant golden color, dulled from rolling in the dirt, the sun having vanished behind thick, dark clouds.

And yet despite that, there was that carnal desire screaming to pick them up. It couldn’t be explained. One just wanted to reach out, caress the golden sheen, dig their teeth into this extraordinary fruit, forbidden among the mortal realm.

“If I hadn’t noticed, this man would have won me without ever having earned it! I…have willingly allowed men the chance to take my hand in an honorable display of skill. If I lose, then I am his to pride himself with. If he loses, he walks towards the wall and is prepared to lose his life to my arrows.”, her voice trembled with the rage of a lioness. Once more she glared at the cowering crowd…

…stopping at the king, her own father, scowling at her display of cruelty.

“But any who attempt to win with treachery, are delivered death by my own hands, immediately! Learn from it! If you do not have faith in your own physical capabilities, do not attempt to challenge me. This is the last warning I will ever bestow upon you all. If you ignore it, you will meet lord Hades by my own two hands, just like him! And I swear that upon the king of the gods himself!”.

Once more, Zeus’ thunder roared with rain and darkness at his side.

That proud woman, who barely avoided a forced marriage by mortal treachery and a helping hand from the goddess of love, had exhausted the last of her strength. Her muscles were aching, limbs heavy and breath hastened. Every single one she took was tiring her out as she supported herself on a tree, enduring the storm.

Everything felt so heavy.

Rain.

Wind.

Life.

Pressing her back against the tree, Atalanta, the huntress of Arcadia, wheezed, facing the sky like she did as a baby.

But the goddess didn’t respond.

Her legs were unable to endure the pain any longer and she slouched against the tree. Her fingers dug into the soil beneath her. She wanted to scream and roar, rage and uproot trees. But what could she do without any strength?

That very same huntress, the one that stood among countless heroes, whose arrows were as feared as her glare, now covered in her tattered robes clinging to her delicate, womanly frame, cried into her legs.

It was her life all over. Dirtied and ripped as the rug that were once beautiful clothes fit for a princess.

Alone.

Just like the first seconds of her life, she was alone. No comforting hand reached out to her. Only the wind, caressing her skin. The sky sympathizing with her, crying for her as the storm got worse.

_“I was betrayed. Betrayed by my father, who met his end by his own foolishness. Betrayed by the goddess of love, attempting to give me to a man who never deserved me.”._

That soft voice of hers was littered with cold grief.

_“Was I always meant to stay alone? Am I…meant to chase this dream by myself? Is there…”._

With a flash of lightning, the dream faded, together with the huntress of times long gone.

_“…no one…who wants to take my hand…and help me create a world where children don’t have to suffer like I did? Peleus…where is that man you promised me? Medea, you assured me that night in the tent, unmoving as a rock in your belief, that there was someone out there. I want to hear your voices…telling me he exists! I…will chase my dream. I will that for the rest of what is left of my fragile life. But…I don’t want to do this alone anymore!”._

Slowly, Crio’s sapphire blue eyes adjusted to the sun, having risen to its peak. It was blinding, forcing him to cover himself with his hand when compared to the flashes of lightning in his mind.

But while it warmly kissed him awake when he was unable to fight back, his mind was still stuck on that nightmare.

He wanted to pick that baby and hold her, whisper that it was alright now.

His hand attempted to reach out and take hers before the dream ended.

But the moment fingertips could brush over her own, it all faded as he woke. Bitterly Crio pursed his lips as he remembered the voice, brittle as glass, asking if there is no one around to go with her.

‘Horrible.’.

The moment he felt himself able to think, that was the only thing that came to his mind, clenching his teeth behind pursed lips. Silently he gazed at the strands of grass. A strong color, like the eyes of that baby, full of life.

His heart was beating frantically inside his chest.

It was as if he ran in her stead. It felt her pain. That loneliness she carried around her. A chain she dragged around ever since she was born. That stinging sensation that never let go, travelling wherever the wind carried her.

Though, he had experienced something similar before.

Through a temporary connection to Artoria, he was able to glimpse into the past. That night, when she asked him if her wish was foolish, she desired to make him see why she had trouble speaking to her master. Not her previous life as a king, but the fourth holy grail war that scarred Fuyuki, grotesquely deforming her wish and her will. Crio could see through her eyes, hear through her ears and feel every blow she traded with Lancelot. Every single swing of his sword was heavy, filled by madness and desire to repent, digging deep into his marrow.

It ended with Artoria’s horror as Kiritsugu ordered her to destroy the grail, knowing it would bring disaster if left to cultivate. Unfortunately, he left her in the unknown.

But that wasn’t the same feeling as back then.

Unlike that time, Crio felt his own Servant’s pain physically, taking his breath away. When she ripped Hippomones’ head off, it felt as if he did that himself. It would have been just another day to him. Just another corpse. Crio was used to end the day with hours underneath a shower and hoping the stench of blood would come off and his hair return to its pure white color. But to her, it was the utmost disrespect she was given that day, fueling rage coursing through her veins, gifting her inhuman strength when she violently tore his head from his shoulders.

Though the race was a protective measure, had a man truly overcome her that day, she would have admitted the loss if he did it by his own strength. That is what the legend of the virgin huntress of Arcadia had told through time so long, it cannot be traced back to the origin. The end of her tale however was murky. There were names of many who won her. And so as well were depictions of her having been pregnant before the races began. Nobody knew by whom. It could have been Meleager or any other man. Yet, that very same woman that desired to create a world for children, apparently abandoned her own baby.

It was laughable to him, utterly ridiculous. How would Atalanta ever be able to abandon her own flesh and blood, if she herself bore such a powerful wish?

If the visions weren’t squeezing his heart, he might have scoffed.

But it was still the truth. It never happened. Atalanta herself confirmed it before that she was never married and now, he saw why so. While her death was still clouded in fog, one only she herself could clear, there was one thing he would never doubt.

She died lonely.

The feeling of a massive headache made him frown as he silently watched the blades of grass sway in a calm breeze. The dream was too vivid to forget. The cry of the baby haunted him, while whimpers of a lonely woman broke his heart.

But also, the voice of that man echoed in his head. The one with the violet hair that was the spouse of the goddess Thetis. ‘You were a good friend to her, Peleus. But it looks like you were wrong.’. A slow, rueful sigh escaped his lips. ‘She was alone in the end. And even the tales I read were wrong. She never met any of his children either.’.

How he wished to rip his heart out of his chest in hope it would stop the pain.

‘She was always alone.’.

His sighing didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you awake, Crio?”.

The moment his gaze turned towards the sky in search for the source of that heavenly voice, he was met with those same polished emeralds. A familiar warmth spread from their sight alone. Those of the baby that smiled up at the goddess, the ones of the woman that talked to Peleus of his future children, were greeting him. Warmth had returned to them and no tear was to be seen. Not like that horrible night she lost everything.

Relief spread inside his chest with a long held in breath finally allowed freedom.

Smiling at her, he chuckled, thankful that the chilling sounds in his head were fading for her soft tunes. Atalanta’s smile was a sight to sore eyes, if you ever got to see her like this, silently watching over you. “Yeah. I am awake now, Atalanta. How long have I slept?”, he groaned, stretching his arms. Curiously she looked at his jacket where his smartphone was laying. With a careful tap of her naked finger, Atalanta retorted her drowsy master: “If I am reading that device correctly, about 7 hours.”. “Ugh…that long?”, Crio muttered annoyed. It should have just been two hours to get a bit of rest. After three days of being awake nonstop, the stress had built up to the point he was mentally and physically exhausted and screaming for some shut eye. Normally an early bird, there were rare occasions were his exhaustion chained him to bed. In those times, a few certain someones gladly took the opportunity to wake him.

Though not always in a gentle manner. There were ‘those’ people that would like to take the shot of a prank at him.

How long it would stay just a prank that person would know when he was chased through half of Fuyuki.

“You know, you could have just woken me up after a few hours.”, he chuckled, earning soft, melodic giggles as an answer. Her knuckles playfully punched his forehead. “After how exhausted you were? No. You needed rest. Three days without a single moment of peaceful sleep can mean death on a battlefield. Once your eyelids drop, everything is over. I cannot allow my master to find such an embarrassing end.”, she joked, enjoying a soft chuckle. All this time, Atalanta had been tirelessly watching over him.

A beautiful guardian angel like none other, her wings covered his body, the sun making her hair shine a brilliant gold.

But something else passed his mind as he stared at what his half asleep mind perceived as an impeccable goddess. “How do you know that touching the screen lets the clock appear?”, he wondered, glancing at his phone. Servants shouldn’t be able to use delicate devices like that. After all, they are people that lived in a past long gone.

Though they could still drive vehicles like naturals if their skills allowed it. That he learned he saw Medusa and Artoria race on motorcycles ones during a carnival. How that happened, so he was told by Medusa, they couldn’t explain. They could just sit behind the wheels and they know everything how to operate it. Riders had it even easier.

Though the way they were using them made him nearly jump out of his skin. Way too many close calls and it made him dread the day they’d take the streets during business hours.

One of the reasons why Shirou never allowed his own Servant or Medusa to handle any motorized vehicle. And why Crio harshly denied the Rider to ever use his car. Medusa wasn’t amused by Crio’s lack of trust, using every method in the book to get him to soften up.

Everything, even using womanly charms to swoon him, hoping their shared origins would make him budge. Too bad Crio was resistant to that.

Proudly sticking her chest out, Atalanta scoffed, making sure the wind didn’t blow her hair into her face. “I can learn many skills simply by observing. Nothing more was needed than to watch you use it.”, she smugly rubbed it in. “I have the gift of learning by observing. Long instructions are unnecessary.”.

A part of him was impressed by Atalanta’s learning capability. She might be able to adapt to these times faster than he thought. But another began to worry about her maybe getting a bit too curious at some point, making a silent note to make a password.

The more the sun shone down on him, the sleepier he got again. The warmth of the sun’s rays relinquished the last haunting screams and whimpers inside his mind. And with the next breath he took, engrossed in her beautiful, shining eyes, he smiled unconsciously.

An angelic being like no other. If that was a dream, he begged to not be awoken, allowed to enjoy this fleeting peace.

Atalanta watched how his features softened again. “You look comfortable…”, she observed, watching his eyelids grow heavier. These fierce, blue eyes, terrifying like those of Poseidon’s most dangerous beasts, at this moment so soft and without a care in the world, only watching her. She adored to see such a vulnerable sight for once. It was proof that despite the man’s incredible strength, he was still human. It made her fuzzy just watching how engrossed he was watching her. With a slight yawn, his eyes closed. “It is comfy alright. Honestly…I am still a bit tired.”, Atalanta heard him utterly enjoy the luxury he was given. When his hands folded over his belly, warm sunshine erasing the need for a blanket, Atalanta couldn’t help but be in awe.

It was one of the rare times he looked completely comfortable and at ease since they found another, more than even a moment before.

Smiling, realizing that he had grown used to her presence already, a sweet whisper lulled him back to sleep. “Then take your time. Rest as much as you need.”. Atalanta was glad that exhaustion was ready to pull him back to sleep or she would have seen her cheeks heating up. Once more she found herself confused about the feelings pounding inside her chest, but only for a small moment, fading when his head was turning towards her.

He would have fallen asleep in a second listening to such a wonderful voice. No explanation in the world could tell Crio why she was so soothing. It just was.

Though there was still one problem. It was gnawing on him.

He was laying on something soft. Turning his head to her, he felt his cheek rub against leather.

‘My jacket?’.

It took him a moment to realize that his jacked was laying over his head.

‘No…my jacket is up there. And the only thing made of leather…is…’.

Blue eyes opened with a sharp gasp, staring straight into the teasing emeralds of the huntress. From the corner of his eyes and a slight tilt, he could see where was laying.

That soft pillow he had was the lap of the huntress herself. Long, splendid legs tugged neatly beneath her.

Atalanta adored the startled look as he finally realized what he was laying upon. “Enjoying my lap that much, master?”, she giggled playfully at the very first drop of nervous sweat forming. “You were sleeping like a baby.”. A horrible croaking sound escaped his throat. ‘When did this happen?! I know I laid myself down on the grass and immediately fell asleep how-?!’.

He was sleeping on her lap the entire time.

Barely sitting up, a hand gently pressed against his chest, stopping him from rising. Upon seeing his confusion, she shook her head slowly and very gently, pressed him to lay back down. A bright scarlet on his face, nervous blue eyes blinked at the caring Servant. “A-Atalanta, why-“. “I allowed that. Take your time “, she caringly whispered, her words restraining him. “You were so exhausted and I wanted you to rest properly. Our next battles will only get more taxing. Now that they lost their Saber, they need to readjust their strategy. They might get desperate and launch an attack too soon. We don’t know. So, take any break you can right now.”.

It was an otherworldly feeling, as if he was back in a the most wonderful dream.

Considering her reputation, he couldn’t help feeling concerned. “But what if they-“. “Crio…remember his final words.”, she groaned, rolling her eyes. Quietly, Crio heard a laughter in the back of his mind and saw Penthesilea’s knowing look, nodding towards them. And tiredly, his blue eyes met her annoyed ones again. “The brat is already thinking we are a pair, and I would bet a golden apple, that Penthesilea does as well. Lancer also seemed to believe it. So no matter what we say, our words would be ignored.”.

He remembered alright. If anything, Crio felt responsible right now. All this time, Atalanta had taken care of him.

Ever since they stood in front of the deathbed of the child.

The fact that she never went into spirit form might as well have given the impression to others, that there was already much more than expected between the Master and Servant. Crio was grateful to have received such a caring Servant. He didn’t know whom to thank for that. She said it herself after all. If he was unworthy, his would have rolled like that of Hippomenes.

A drawn out sigh escaped his lips. The damage has already been done.

Her giggling to him was like the choir of angels, blowing every worry away. There was nothing that could compare. “Forget it, Crio. Let them think what they want. Besides…”. Crio batted his eyes at the sudden thoughtful look on her face as her voice faded.

Just last night, the queen of the amazons protected him in his slumber, despite a fierce argument before. Despite all of that, the moment she saw his concentration fading, she offered to protect him, making him wonder if he had been to harsh in his words, regretting what he said before. Atalanta and Penthesilea laughed softly how the greek wasn’t taken by pride as most of the males in their lifetimes were.

All but one.

Once Achilles looked over Penthesilea’s shoulder, his lips were pursed.

Those were only a few seconds, but Atalanta knew that look.

Jealousy.

Jealousy born by Penthesilea’s amused smile towards the sleeping master.

‘I wanted to ask him what it was about, but he rushed off.’, she thought. ‘In time he will come by himself to speak. But I think that the child has many things troubling him. Penthesilea most of all.’.

Upon seeing Crio’s visible confusion, she shook her head. “Dismiss it for now. I need to ask the both of them some questions next time.”, Atalanta brushed the topic away. “For now, rest a bit more. The sun is far from setting. For now, I allow you to lay on my lap. Afterwards, we can take care of whatever needs to be done.”.

Not that it took much. Gazing at the golden symbols on the front of her dress, he fought his blush with deep breaths. A smile spread on his lips. “I wonder what I did to deserve such a caring Servant.”. Her scent was all around him. A wonderful mix of the greek sea from her travels on the Argo and the sweetness of a fresh apple cut open.

Upon watching him relish on her presence and gratefulness softening his voice, a small blush spread on her cheeks. “Don’t make me repeat myself, master. No other man ever was allowed so close to me. Much less were they allowed on my lap. I am thankful to have been gifted with you as well. That I was finally summoned by a master, whom I can confide in and receive understanding in return.”, she answered his gratitude with her own, earning a soft laugh. If he were completely asleep, her hand might have run though his white hair again.

“Enough talk for now. Close your eyes again and sleep. Let Hypnos lure you in and Morpheus bless you with sweet dreams. We have time. And when we are gathering what we need for our camp, we can talk as much as you want. When your eyes open, I will be here.”.

Atalanta watched Crio relax on her lap as his breathing slowed down, while her eyes wandered towards the clear sky. It was clear, decorated by the smallest clouds travelling this unknown world.

Just like this morning, when she asked the moon to clear her confusion about what it was, she was feeling inside her chest. That unknown sensation of warmth she never felt before in her life.

The soft, barely audible sounds of his breath announced to her, that he was asleep once more. She didn’t need to look, feeling how he nestled against her flat abdomen.

Unlike before, she showed neither discomfort or nervousness.

Now that he was resting, the clear blue sky grew uninteresting and her eyes lowered to the master. Gently the wind played with her green bangs at the front. Concern washed over her with a soft, regretful sigh.

The moment he had fallen asleep once the sun had begun to rise, she had never expected her master to yearn for her touch. The desire to comb over his white hair, caused him to nuzzle against her palm, yearning for that very affection. Confused, she watched over him.

And slowly, her cold expression had melted and happiness tugged her lips into a soft smile.

The joy inside her chest felt unexplainable, yet so warm. Nothing like the times she spent with Medea. All those days on sea, or nights they spent with their feet on the sand, enjoying the cooling sensation of the ocean.

But then, in his slumber before, Crio had begun to frown as if biting into a bitter lemon over and over again.

It worried her, hoping it wasn’t one of the many scars on his body acting up. She had no experience in healing. If his body was in pain, she would have no choice but to visit the priest once more. Though with Assassin at the snake’s side, being the very poison on his fangs, she wouldn’t let Crio step inside alone and never would they doctor on his body without her at his side.

The more she watched however, the more she began to realize what it was. And the joy from before turned into regret.

When the gentle touch she wished to share and connection to her master overtook his long-earned rest, torturing him with her life. When the cries of a helpless baby felt like a thousand arrows plowing into his heart…

…and she felt the pain.

Atalanta helplessly watched, having no idea how to soothe a nightmare. But the more she observed and how close they were, her hand unconsciously stroking his cheek, he seemed to find solace, knowing she was there.

Delicately touching his forehead with the back of her hand, Atalanta was glad he finally went to sleep again. It gave her an opportunity to gently brush over his white hair without having to worry about his reaction.

Soft lips were tightly pressed together.

The warm breeze felt almost nonexistent.

“I apologize, Master…”.

Ruefully smiling at his furrowed eyebrows relaxing in her lap, unable to fight her tender touch, Atalanta sighed. “What am I doing? You hate it when I call you master, don’t you? But knowing that it is my life that tortured you in your sleep, I just cannot help myself but show remorse. Even if the only other choice, was a nightmare I would never be able to endure. All those children killed by Gilles de Rais…”.

How she wanted to be a huntress who preyed on nightmares. Combing his soft, white strands reaching his neck, mesmerized, yet worrying how often they must have been dipped in bright scarlet, Atalanta chanted protectively.

“I pray your dream this time…will be something more pleasant, Crio. Neither my life, nor that traumatic sight of the Caster’s insanity.”.

Protectively she gazed at him. Every feature on his handsome face adorned with scars, enjoying the comfort of her lap and the touch of her hand. “I wish you to be blessed by the most wonderful of dreams Morpheus can offer. No corpses of those poor children that mad Caster left behind. Relieve thyself of that sight. And if you need to face it, do it together with me.”.

Her heart was hurting, beating despite the knife stuck in her heart were her memories. Sights she didn’t wish anyone to experience who bore the same desire as her.

“No crying baby…that was abandoned by her only family. Only solace. A lush meadow with a wonderful view over the greek sea. A sight you could never imagine in these times. A place only gods could call their home, as you sit on white marble, the taste of the sweetest wine of lord Dionysus on your lips. The sky cleared be Zeus himself and the seas the purest blue you would ever experience, as Poseidon’s mightiest creature jump on the horizon, greeting your eyes.”.

Atalanta thought of the most pleasant times she had in her life. Stargazing with the few friends she had on her travel over the greek ocean.

“Let your dreams be turned into bliss. Imagine yourself…on board of the Argo.”, she chanted, caressing his snow-white hair, soft and well taken care of unlike her rough mane. “Imagine we were travelling together. We would both endure Jason priding himself for having gathered all of us. Heracles and me would train you in archery. Medea would have a brother and sister in us to confide in.”. A soft laugh escaped her. “I can see her running up to you in the mornings and embracing you and me. And I am sure, Peleus would have taken a liking to you as well. You and him would have exchanged wine and stories over the flickers of a campfire. And I wonder…”.

She couldn’t help swimming in that lake of memories with hope. Every time Atalanta saw herself drawing on the best time on her life, right in her hand, pouring it gently over his head, she hoped that these times would clean him of the nightmares.

“…if you saw me and Heracles on one our contests, would you have taken my side, even after seeing what a magnificent hero he was?”.

Once the time was right, she decided to elaborate on his nightmare and tell him the truth about the huntress of Arcadia. But for now, watching her chant cast a smile on Crio’s lips in his slumber, solace filled her heart.

Her delicate hand, fingers hidden beneath his pure white mane, gently pressed him against her.

“Lady Artemis…can I pray for your arrows to strike down his nightmares? He is not a bad man. Too pure to even attempt anything like that bastard Hippomenes.”.

The goddess of the hunt she knew was a woman of unspeakable beauty. Even with the goddess Aphrodite residing on Olympus, to the young huntress, that smile underneath sky-blue eyes was the most radiant she ever saw. Her bosom only held love for the abandoned girl. Despite being so tender, the hands of the goddess of the hunt led her carefully towards the weapon she was later known for.

And soon, Atalanta could kill even lions without breaking out in fear.

Remembering the love, the goddess of the hunt had for the warrior and hunter, Orion, having been said to have been one of the best hunters in all of Greece, Atalanta closed her eyes and preyed, protecting her master in her lap.

“Just like you held love for Orion…I feel…unrecognizable warmth around this man. I cannot say what it is I feel. But I wish to protect him. Can you allow him rest, so that he may never fall in battle? Oh, goddess of the hunt…I beseech your protection.”.

Every day and night she prayed. As a mortal.

As a Servant.

It tied her to this world and she would never let go of it.

Her eyes cracked open. Without any fast movements, her bow appeared.

Years of exposure to hunting grounds and living in the wilderness gifted the huntress with instincts sharper than any beast. Glancing behind her back, piercing emerald eyes plowed into the shadows provided by the branches of the forest…

…finding no one there.

“My imagination?”, she muttered confused, returning to taking care of her master.

Yet unbeknownst to her, a magnificent creature hid behind a tree.

A wolf. Pelt of pure white and eyes of sky-blue. It watched underneath the shades, hiding its presence. It sat there, watching the huntress’ golden mane, without moving a single muscle.

And with a warm summer breeze, vanished behind the sea of leaves.

After another few hours of sleep, bright and awake as the sun was soon in the mood to rest, the pair walked in town in search for a boutique. Still covered by his jacket wrapped around her body, Atalanta was happy to see her master well rested.

Crio looked much better than last night, when he was riddled with questions, and had spring in his step again after having gotten plenty of rest, thanks to her. She was a bit curious if it was just her lap, her presence or maybe the words she whispered to keep nightmares away from him. Maybe he really dreamed of being on the Argo with her.

But in the end, it didn’t matter. He was well enough to fight and be fully conscious.

Brushing the thoughts aside, Atalanta asked about their first agenda. “What are our priorities for today, master?”. “Clothes.”, he answered, taking a look at the various stores surrounding the narrow street. “You do not want to return into spirit form, and we’ll make it so. If we want to walk around together, we need to get you something proper.”.

“I see. Did you have anything imagined for me?”.

Crio bit on his tongue. One thing he never considered, was having to search clothes for Atalanta, and he had no idea about underwear.

The smallest glimpse his imagination gave him of the huntress in underwear, nearly caused a harsh blush, crushed by a very, very deep breath he took. But she noticed how stiff his body got the second she asked if he already knew what to get her, a small pearl of sweat forming on his forehead. As he stared at the window of a shop and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, Atalanta was just smiling at him. He knew that look by now, and the blush that threatened him before dropped and went. “We’ll see. I’ll get someone to pick something out for you. My taste in a woman’s style is lacking. A friend of mine would be more help.”.

“What a shame. And here I was hoping my master would have something for me.”.

“Haha. Very funny, Archer.”, Crio answered her sarcasm with his own. “Are you trying to put pictures of you into my head or something?”. “Oh, no. Not at all.”, playful innocence slithered into his ear. “You are just incredibly fun to tease master. I wonder if you are like that with all woman around, Berserker and Assassin aside.”.

“Berserker is the kind of woman a normal guy would have trouble with and she is not my type. And never make me imagine Assassin around me.”.

If she knew how right she was. Crio was always a victim when it came to this.

The shopping trip took a lot longer than expected.

Once having found a boutique that had some fashionable clothing for a beautiful woman like the Archer, an employee created a set for her that fit perfectly. Problem was, that woman was a bit too intrigued by Atalanta’s style and wanted to dress her up like a doll.

She was also a bit too touchy.

Crio sat outside the changing room and listened to the huntress’ warning for the woman to stop ogling her and get out so she can undress and the moment Atalanta let out a soft, shocked squeal when a pair of hands wandered somewhere they shouldn’t have, he snapped at the staff to stop touching her. It made him ask himself, if that woman handled every customer like that, before Atalanta poked her head out with a frown that spoke of a bloodbath if he hadn’t stepped in.

Woman or not, touching the chaste huntress like that and being a complete stranger is asking for an arrow right between the eyes.

But what she came out with afterwards brought Crio’s heart to nearly stop.

A long sleeved, beige sweater dress, black stockings with fitting brown boots and a belt around her waist.

Simple, yet very effective.

Atalanta was an attractive woman already in his eyes, but Crio always wondered what clothes would fit her the most. And this was definitely her style. Adult and fashionable. A smile on her lips as they walked into the depths of the forest, having gathered everything they needed, Atalanta gazed at her clothes again. They were comfortable and showed her womanly shape. But most importantly, they fit her nature. “I appreciate the set of clothes, master.”, she thanked him, receiving a shake of his head that there was no need to show gratitude. “Now I do not have to rely on your jacket when we want to take a walk.”.

Seeing her like this, made him more than happy. Atalanta was a sight to behold underneath the few rays of the setting sun breaking through the barrier of leaves in the forest they walked in. 

“Don’t worry about it. They fit you.”, Crio nonchalantly. “I think you look pretty.”.

Startled emerald eyes tried to gaze into his sapphire ones, worrying about what he just spouted in front of her. A soft, rueful sight escaped his lips. ‘I really need to watch my mouth more often.’, he reprimanded himself, completely unaware of the huntress’ amusement. A thankful smile on her lips, Atalanta enjoyed the wind caressing her cheek. Ever so silent, she whispered an inaudible ‘thank you’, which Crio didn’t hear.

There was however one thing she wanted him to know.

“Crio?”, he heard his name cross her lips. “You remember what I told you last night when you…had to talk about that Caster?”.

He didn’t forget how his body remembered the disgusting painting that Gilles de Rais had called art. All these corpses he kept inside his mind to not have to scar Atalanta with them, made his body shiver and pale.

Warmly her eyes flickered just like that time.

“When there is something that bothers you…be it worry of an oncoming battle, a sight that haunts you or…even a nightmare…”.

With a soft smile, Atalanta encouraged him: “Speak to me. There is nothing you have to hide from your Servant and nothing that I would dare laugh at. I will listen to what troubles you, no matter how insignificant you feel it would be. After all, we are in this together, correct?”.

No words could even describe the gratitude for what Crio felt was an embrace of sorts. The people and beings that made him feel like this were few and far away.

Or even gone forever.

He nodded calmly, allowing a smile to spread on his lips. “Thank you, Atalanta. I will keep that in mind. And know that as much as you, I will always listen to anything that troubles you.”, he thanked her.

Feeling the bag slowly grind into his palm, he put it into his other as they quietly walked.

“…Atalanta?”.

“Yes?”.

There were a few things he wanted to ask her.

Was the man that cruelly abandoned her truly her father, king Iasus? Did Meleager die for merely falling in love with her? How did she bypass the golden apple’s temptation and kill Hippomenes for his deceit?

And most of all…

…how did she die?

Alone in a forest, just like she was born?

Was she killed by those mercenaries?

Or was Zeus tempted to give her a swift death and struck her with his dreaded lightning bolts?

But with how sweetly Atalanta was smiling at him right now, he couldn’t hope to endure breaking her current happiness. That smile, brighter than Helios pulling the chariot behind him, is what he wanted to protect. These questions he would hold on to for another time.

“Can you…tell me a bit how _Elláda_ was back in your time?”.

Even though not of her time, Atalanta found joy that he found interest in a part of her life. How Greece was during her life. Masters generally knew where their Servants are from and never asked about their lives before.

But for him, there was more than one reason. And no matter what it was, Atalanta enjoyed his interest how the world she was born in had been.

“Gladly. I will tell you all about it.”, she nodded, thinking of a time long past.

Atalanta took a deep breath, only remembering the most beautiful landscapes she was allowed to experience. But she wanted to make things sweeter for him. It was easy to speak, but she wanted him to daydream a bit.

“Only listen to my voice…and imagine the following.”, she began, watching his eyelids slowly fall.

“The forest we walk in has the lushest green leaves you have ever seen. A warm, gentle breeze kisses you skin. Deer and other animals patrol the woods, yet pay you no mind. And once you leave the protection of lady Artemis’ hunting grounds…you are met with a wide meadow, blades of grass swaying with the pure, salty sea wind that greets us from lord Poseidon’s realm. Out there, a small hill carrying blossoms of pure white that provide much shade underneath Helios pulling the sun.”.

For a second, she glanced at him. His eyes hadn’t opened as he imagined the scenery inside his mind.

‘He is completely in trance.’.

Her smile wandered towards his free right hand holding the seals.

Their vow as she called it.

Long she gazed at it in search for an answer. The hand seemed so free…

…and lonely.

Her abdomen could still remember how he nuzzled against her in his slumber in search for comfort he would never admit. Stubborn he was, always saying he was okay. But Atalanta saw something even he didn’t know.

‘Would that be a sin, lady Artemis?’.

Once more, Atalanta found herself asking her goddess. ‘If I took his hand, knowing he would not do anything to me…would that be…alright? You bore affection towards Orion. If I did the same…if it even is that same emotion…would it be wrong?’.

After the final lesson in archery, the goddess ascended towards the moon once more, kissing her girl goodnight a final time. Never again had Atalanta seen her, yet always felt her protective embrace, never feeling threatened whenever a man came close. Not when Peleus’ arm slung around her shoulder for a proud pat of another won battle and exchanged a smile with her, or when the large Heracles placed her on his shoulder to fire a volley of arrows at unsuspecting enemies, carefully making sure she wouldn’t fall as they spearheaded the frontlines.

Only this time, it was someone she wanted to be close to, closer than before. And how would Crio react?

Would he shy away?

Crio wondered why her gentle voice stopped fueling his imagination. He had just started to enjoy himself.

But all of a sudden, something touched his hand.

Holding his breath, his blood ran cold for a second when he felt it brush against his palm. Fighting his senses to draw his sword or a gun, he waited.

And slowly felt that softness wrap around his hand.

It was warm, soft, holding comfort he barely could explain.

Protectiveness.

‘Is she really…’, he wondered.

Wondered if what he did was a sin towards her goddess.

But Crio felt safe. Pulling all his courage together…

…he carefully began squeezing her hand.

His anxiousness faded and appreciation drowned his worry when it was returned.

Atalanta had allowed him to sleep on her lap, so a little handholding wouldn’t break their bond when it was just the two trying not to be separated, right? There would be no step further. Crio would do nothing that upset Atalanta, if she herself didn’t allow it. And right now, it was the huntress herself who desired that touch as they walked underneath the shade of the trees.

Feeling his fingers curl around her, a soft laugh escaping her lips, curled up in adoration of her master, she was sure this time. ‘This is not wrong. Lady Artemis, you are watching me, correct? You always did.’.

In that comforting silence, they walked without haste, not desiring that moment to vanish the second their hands would have to separate.

‘You were always with me. You protected me from those apples. You…are pushing us towards another, right?’.

Now that she thought about it, Crio’s white hair resembled something she heard before. Yet what that was, didn’t bother her right now, merely calling it a coincidence.

Taking a deep breath, Atalanta steadied her voice.

“Now, let us change the scenery a bit.”, she resumed. Crio noticed a change inside her. Her voice seemed much…

…lighter.

That weight that she always carried was nonexistent. Not unlike that nightmare that was her life. Cracking a sapphire eye open, just for a split second, gazing at her filled his heart with joy. A rarity among all of Greece.

‘As long as you can smile like that…’, Crio thought, wandering towards their hands. ‘…then I will do everything I can to do so.’.

Soon his eyes closed once more, listening to the strings that carried tales of ancient Greece.

“Imagine a ship. Hundreds of great greek heroes all aboard them. Heracles. Jason. Caenis. Myself. We are all aboard it as we travel the great Aegean Sea. We are enjoying ourself as Poseidon steers the ship and we gaze at his realm in awe as we see one of his gentle giants raise towards the surface…”.

‘No matter what it takes…’.

As Crio and Atalanta continued to walk…

…a wish manifested inside his chest, as he drifted off into ancient Greece. Off to a time, where Heracles was free of madness and the greatest hero to have ever lived. A place where him and Atalanta travelled the ocean together with many great heroes.

Conviction turned the warm blue of his eyes dreadfully cold.

‘…so long as you can keep that smile, I will lift you towards the grail with my own two hands. I am going to kill every single one who threatens to crush that wish of yours…no matter how much blood my own body must shed. And I will make sure not a drop of it will get on you. When your hands reach the grail…you will be pure. Let me stay in that bloody lake for you.’.

His thumb circled over her skin. And while the huntress enjoyed the touch, she didn’t see the frightful grimace on his handsome face…

…blue eyes burning brighter than the sun.

‘I will never hear you cry like this ever again…that night underneath the moon…’.

As his chest tightened at the memory, Atalanta continued on. “Imagine a young girl with long violet hair and eyes that shine whenever she sees us. A giant with grey…”.

All of a sudden, Crio stopped moving, gesturing for her to stay silent. Sharp gazes searched the forest for the unnerving presence.

Only the singing of the birds graced their ears.

“Did I imagine that?”, he wondered, gazing apologetically at Atalanta shaking her head. “No. I also felt something when you were asleep.”, she explained her previous feeling. A proud smile spread on her lips. “Good. My master has senses sharp as my own.”.

“Heh. Nothing to be compared to the huntress of Arcadia. I am just an amateur compared to you, I am sure. But I’ll need to put up a barrier to cover our spot. Looks like the woods, even so far away, aren’t as safe as we assumed.”.

“And I think you are not giving yourself enough credit sometimes. I think I have my work cut out for me.”.

“What is that supposed to mea-Wait a second. Did you steal my cigarettes again?!”.

“I saw how you tried to smoke before, after we got my clothes.”.

“…Would you be happier if I stopped?”.

“That I would. Maybe I would reward you somehow.”.

“What would you of all people reward me with? Aside from weapons and armor, you Servants don’t have anything.”.

“Don’t be so quick to judge, Crio. I can find something. Do you have interest in archery?”.

As they walked along and conversed without a care in the world, both failed to notice the same wolf from before observing them from afar, atop of a rock that was basked in light.

Once they were out of ear and eyesight, the beast of the woods turned behind him…

…nuzzling its snout against the hand of a beautiful woman with hair of white and eyes of skyblue.

A faint smile was on her lips, watching master and Servant enjoy the rest of the daylight, before the war would continue.

As the leaves were picked up by the racing wind, beast and mistress disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been quite a while since the last one. First chapter of the new year.
> 
> Happy new year to all of you! I hope you arrived safe and sound. 
> 
> FGO and Ghost of Tsushima have been keeping me busy, the latter more than the former. I just adore this games story. I always was very interest in japanese history and that game is a treat for anyone who is even remotely interested. 
> 
> Aside from that, after the last chapter, Mordred pretty much kicked my door in when I tried to roll for the emperor. And not only that, she actually brought Atalanta along! I couldn't believe my eyes that day. Both of my favorite girls from Apocrypha just came home with one roll! I had Atalanta Alter already through the 4 star ticket, but that was just too amazing to not capture on screen. 
> 
> For that though, Jalter completely ignored me. Ah well. You lose some, you gain some. I hope you had more luck with your goals.
> 
> Stay safe everyone.


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